


Black and White

by prettyelizmari



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: M/M, Phanfiction, THERE ARE MANY ORIGINAL CHARACTERS, dystopia au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-01
Updated: 2015-02-02
Packaged: 2018-02-23 13:01:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 29,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2548412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettyelizmari/pseuds/prettyelizmari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a perfect city, with a perfect wife, Phil can say without any doubt that he has the perfect life. And then a brown-eyed boy in a tuxedo shows up in his life and Phil finds himself craving imperfection. He doesn't know how far things will fall...<br/>(Dystopian future AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mirrors

Somewhere, in one of the many identical houses peppering the meticulously tidied roads, a blonde woman’s voice called out.  
“Philip!”  
Within that perfect house –white with a black roof- a dark-headed boy was hunched over his desk. He was absorbed in a leather-bound book and had not heard the name being called. It was, in fact, his name, although he preferred the shorter version, simply “Phil”.  
The woman, who was his kind-hearted mother, called him with louder urgency. “Philip! It’s time to go!”   
At last Phil extracted himself from the book and felt waves of panic wash over him. He now remembered that he had long since been expected to be dressed and ready. He glanced down; his mismatched socks and checked pyjama pants would never impress his mother. With the grace and poise of a growing teenage boy he clambered from his chair and stumbled to his cupboard, which then led into frantic hopping as he pulled on the skinny jeans he had grown so fond of.  
“Coming, mum!” he called breathlessly, zipping a rather dirty hoodie over his colourful t-shirt and throwing a final check over himself in the mirror in the cupboard. His hair was an extraordinary mess, and his delightful hormones had decided to bless him with a throbbing pimple on his right cheek. “What a catch,” he mumbled to himself before turning and forcing his feet into his sneakers. His feet had grown again, and he needed a new pair. He’d soon need a new pair of jeans too, as he had yet another growth spurt sprung upon him several weeks back.  
He skidded down the stairs, only managing to trip twice. His mother was waiting exasperatedly at the front door. She sighed at his frazzled appearance. “Oh, Philip,” she relented, before opening the door. The two stepped onto their front portal and were instantly at their destination. The Mn-Chstr Union Building, in all of its grey glory, loomed before them. Other parents with their teenagers were appearing at the portals alongside them. Phil immediately felt uncomfortable in their presence, and anxiously fixed his hair. His mother pulled him inside and together they navigated the grid of portals.  
“Where are we going, exactly?” Phil asked nervously.   
“Office 248Bi,” his mother said matter-of-factly. They found the subsequent portals and soon were before a dark door marked with the letters ‘Level 248- Marriage Placement. Section B- Males aged 15-20. Office i.’ Phil gulped audibly. His mother, who had lifted her hand to courteously knock, paused and looked up at her son. “Are you nervous, dear?” she asked kindly. Phil nodded three times and wiped his hands on his jeans. His mother rubbed his shoulder comfortingly. “You are going to be placed with your genetic counterpart,” she said, not for the first time. “She is going to be absolutely perfect for you, and you two are going to be so happy.” She sniffed happily and patted her son’s arm. “There is nothing to worry about.”   
Phil nodded, nervousness not having abated in the slightest. The two entered the office and found a balding man in a burgundy suit working on a holographic tablet. He shot them a bright grin and indicated that they should sit at the two leather armchairs by his desk. “Salutations, Brigitte and Philip Lester,” he said cordially. “Welcome to Marriage Placement! I am Marvin Jenkins, your Placer!”  
Phil mum bled as way of greeting. The man, Jenkins, bubbled with laughter. “I see you are slightly nervous! Only natural. In a few moments you will know exactly who you are spending the rest of your life with! It’s a lot to take in for a young man!” The man’s bald pate shone in the fluorescent light, almost as brightly as his gleaming grin. He pulled out a bowl of individually wrapped chocolates. “Please, have something for your nerves,” he offered to Phil, who gratefully took one, unwrapped it and shoved it into his dry mouth.   
“I have a nice booklet of information for you to read over,” the man winked at them, “But I know you’re dying to know the lucky girl!”   
Phil shrugged. His mother let Marvin transfer the booklet to her tablet.   
Marvin drummed loudly on his tabletop. “Now for that sacred moment,” he cried. He clearly loved his job. “Your future beloved is...”  
Thousands of universes burst into existence and died again in that second.  
“Angela Fisher!”  
A relatively average name, was Phil’s first thought. He didn’t know why. His blood pumped through his body, coursing white hot just under his pale skin. Marvin was talking, but Phil heard only the rushing of finality in his ears. The dreaded day had come.   
Meanwhile, Marvin had brought up a picture of Angela on his holographic screens. A numb Phil managed to register her appearance. She was clearly still a teenager, but quite pretty. She had long unruly brown hair, large blue eyes and a wide grin. Phil’s heart seemed unsure of its reaction; it sped up, stopped, then sped faster. Marvin’s booming voice pierced his fogged exterior, “Angela recorded a video message for you Philip! Take a look.”  
The video started playing. Angela was in her room. She was looking beyond the camera and asking, “Are you sure I should?” She had a nice voice, Phil supposed.  
Angela scrunched her face up and faced the camera. “Hi there,” she said awkwardly. “Future husband, I guess, um,” she laughed. “I don’t know what to say! My name’s Angela, and I suppose I’m your future wife!” She took the camera and pointed it at her room. “Enough of my face,” she said. “This is my bedroom, obviously, and those are my books –I love reading- and my stuffed animal collection. No judging!” The camera was taken from her and pointed at her face again. She blushed furiously. “I hope I’m not a let-down, or something, and I can’t wait to meet you, future husband! Um. Yeah?”  
The video ended. Phil sat quietly. Marvin was looking at him expectantly, a practiced grin fixed in place. Phil looked at him, and started. “She seems great,” he said shortly.  
Marvin whooped and then started discussing the finer details with Phil’s mother. Angela’s details were provided so that the two could meet and begin a friendship before their wedding. The wedding would take place after Angela’s 18th birthday, which was about three years from now.   
Phil sat in the room beside his chattering mother and the oddly loud man. He seemed apart from them, and had never felt more alone.  
\--------------------  
Phil was meeting Angela today. It had been arranged for weeks now, and it was finally upon him. He was stood in front of the mirror and scrutinising his appearance. He was wearing his nice shirt, with his new skinny jeans, best sneakers, and was currently attempting to arrange his hair into something resembling a hairstyle. “Time to go, love,” his mother called from below. Phil gave up on his hair and trotted downstairs.   
His mother entered the Fisher residence’s co-ordinates into the portal’s commands and the two stepped outside. In a blink they were in front of a nearly identical black and white house. Phil’s mother reached forward and pressed the conventional doorbell. The door swung open and a pottering old couple opened the door. Phil’s mother exchanged pleasantries with Angela’s parents. They started cooing over Phil. “Look at how tall the boy is,” the woman cried. “Such good genes!”   
“Oh, splendid blue eyes,” the man said gleefully. “Perfect with Angela’s! We’ll have blue-eyed grandbabies, Matilda!”  
The woman chuckled and pulled Phil inside rather forcefully. “Good day, dearie,” she smiled. “And you, dear,” she said to Phil’s mother. “Come to the lounge, Angela is making us some tea.” The group went into the lounge. Small talk was made for a few minutes as clattering was heard from the kitchen.   
Eventually Angela emerged from the kitchen, bearing a tea tray laden with all manners of cakes and tarts. A silver pot of tea was wedged between the cream puffs and the scones. She clacked the tray onto the coffee table and then bolted upright. Her eyes scanned over the four seated there to land on Phil. Her face split into a grin. “You’re tall!” she cried, before blushing deeply. “Sorry,” she apologised. “I am so nervous.”   
“Angela!” her mother scolded. “Leave me, mum,” Angela hissed. She grinned at Phil bashfully. “Please sit and have some tea,” she said politely. They all sat and watched as Angela shakily poured tea into a silver teacup for Phil. “Milk, sugar?” she asked. “Um, white with two sugars, thanks,” Phil said awkwardly. The room was silent save for the sloshing of milk being added to the tea. She placed two jam biscuits onto the saucer and then passed it to Phil. He was about to brave a scalding sip when Angela shrieked, “I didn’t stir!” who then clambered over Phil’s mother with spoon.   
Phil’s cheeks burned as Angela hastily stirred his tea. He took a sip, cheeks tensing at the steaming heat. “Hmm, lovely,” he said kindly at Angela, who sighed gratefully and slumped beside him. “Go on,” she said to the others, who hastily helped themselves to tea. She reached forward and picked up a slice of cream cake. With little regard to the plates and forks on the table she took a big bite of the cake.   
Her mother hissed, “Angela!” again, but Angela rolled her eyes. “I did the tea thing mum, I’m sure Phil won’t mind if I have cake. Right, Phil?”  
Phil, who laughed genuinely for the first time, agreed heartily. The two smiled softly at each other. Suddenly everything didn’t seem too terrifying.  
\----------------  
It was the wedding. Years had moved by. Phil had grown into his awkward limbs, filling out his very skinny body into just a skinny body. His hair, while still horrific, could now be masked with hair straighteners, hair dye and hairspray.  
Phil and Angela had become close friends, although ’friends’ wasn’t the exact word. They were friends who knew they would marry, so every conversation had an underlying buzz. Every accidental touch was a shock, and every shared glance held loaded meaning.   
Every passing day, with every message the two sent each other, every hug they shared and every joke they cracked brought Phil into the realisation that maybe, this wasn’t going to be so bad.  
He stood in front of the mirror, as he always seemed to do before meaningful moments. He was resplendent in a deep blue suit. His bowtie was black with a shimmering galaxy printed onto the material. His hair was perfect for the first time ever- it’s glimmering deep ink colour offset his creamy pale skin well, and he felt a little trickle of something as he stared at himself. He felt attractive. He felt for the first time more a man than the scared little boy he hid inside.   
The door creaked open and he saw his mother’s apprehensive face in the reflection. “Honey,” she breathed, coming inside. “You look so handsome!”   
Phil embraced his mother lovingly. “Are you ready, dear?” she asked, looking up into her son’s eyes. She was incredibly proud of him.  
“I am,” he said steadily.   
“Time to go wait by the ceremony stand,” she choked a little through her tears. Together they walked outside, past the rows of friends and family there to see the Joining. Phil kissed his mother on the cheek and she went back to her seat. He fixed his bowtie. Soon the orchestra struck up a familiar haunting tune and everyone stood and turned to face the door.   
Angela, his Angela, appeared in the doors of the hall. Her long hair was pinned into a cascading waterfall of curls, and she had never looked as beautiful. Her dress was a sweeping miracle of shimmering black, and she clutched a worn book. She blushed deeply at the stares of the people, before hurrying down the aisle. She kept her eyes locked on Phil’s, who saw that they were glinting oddly in the light. She was teary.  
She stood next to him and he reached for her sweaty hand. “I have the book,” she mumbled unnecessarily. “A thousand times better than a bouquet,” he assured her. They smiled at each other before facing the hologram projecting their officiator. He began his speech and Phil zoned out a bit, concentrating only on Angela’s fingers in his.   
“It’s time for the traditional vows,” the officiator droned. Phil luckily caught that and turned to Angela. He swallowed once before saying the memorised words.  
“Ang,” he started. “I’m so glad you’re exactly who you are. You’re perfect for me. I just know that our life together is gonna be amazing.”  
Phil wasn’t a man of many words, and he preferred not saying the important ones in front of a hall of people. Angela’s bubbling laughter filled the room before she said, “Phil, you’re... taller than our first time meeting.”  
The two shared an indulgent chuckle. “Even if I hadn’t known you, I still would have chosen you. I- I love you.”  
They hadn’t said it to each other before. Phil’s mouth dropped. He looked at this woman –for she had grown into one- and saw her sparkling eyes, her wonderful personality, her hilarious jokes, everything that made her perfect. He realised that the tightness he felt around her was just that- “I love you too,” he said, heart bursting into racing speeds. The officiator behind them said the obligatory “I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss your partner.”  
Phil looked at his wife. Not for the first time, he glanced at her lips. It was time. They hadn’t allowed themselves this, as some illegally do. They had waited. And here it was. Phil leaned down. Ang leaned up. Their lips brushed. Phil had expected more- fireworks maybe, or even just a spark, but it never came. Instead Ang looped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips harder against his. It was awkward, as first kisses go, but it was sweet. They pulled away from each other and blushed. A whole new side of their relationship was blooming into endless possibilities as they stared into each other’s eyes.   
The room was applauding. The newly-weds were ushered through the crowds to the portal set for their new house. The others would go to the Reception Hall and party until late that night, but the couple weren’t expected to join them. The reasoning behind it was that the young hormonal teenagers had a lot of catching up to do.  
Phil was mortified by the entire process.  
In seconds they were standing before their new house. Black and white. They were still clasping each other’s hands. “Want to cross the threshold the traditional way?” Phil joked. Angela shrugged, suddenly looking terrified. Phil understood. They entered the house quietly. It was cold, and almost exactly the same as their childhood homes. The climbed the stairs and entered the bedroom. The lone double bed sat there, almost accusingly. “So-“ Phil stuttered. “I guess we don’t have to, right now? Um. What do you think?”  
Angela sighed, a long thin sound. “Let’s just-“ and she reached for Phil’s lips again. The kiss was as anticlimactic as before, simply the moving of lips against each other. Angela opened her mouth and poked her tongue onto Phil’s lips. His mouth fell open in shock, and Angela slowly let her tongue snake into Phil’s mouth. Phil never realised that kissing was this... weird.   
Angela reached behind herself and unzipped the dress. It fell into a heap around her ankles. Phil pulled away from the kiss and gulped at her exposed body. He shrugged out of his jacket. He undid his bowtie. He began undoing his top button when Angela whispered, “Let me.” She slowly let each button release and slid the white shirt off Phil’s arms. She looked up at his pale chest. She put her hand on his stomach, where a smattering of dark hair led downward. “I-“ she uttered.  
Phil didn’t know what to do with his hands.  
Eventually he wrapped his arms around her soft body and pulled her closer to him. He leant down, far down, and kissed her again. There was no sound but their lips moving. Slowly, very slowly, something built in Phil’s belly. He felt that tightening, that burning, grow and slowly reach from the tips of his toes to the top of his head. “Ang,” he whispered hollowly. Ang looked up at him, her eyes blown wide and dark. “Phil?” she breathed. “Are you-“  
“I’m ready.”  
It was short, and awkward, but loving, and the marked beginning of the rest of their lives together, as one.


	2. Swing

Their life began. Phil had been trained as a holographic video editor and Angela as a graphic designer. Phil’s first day at work was exciting. He would sit in a big office surrounded by technology and carefully edit hours of footage into an episode of a television show. It was a good job.  
Each morning he’d wake up, make breakfast for Angela, read a chapter of his latest library book, take the portal to work, edit footage until his eyes hurt, flash home, watch shows on his tablet that he hadn’t personally edited, talk to Angela, eat something, and fall into bed. It was exhausting. He was hesitant to call it boring, but it was just that. He had always thought his job would be more exiting or freeing. He always thought his marriage would be an adventure. He loved Angela dearly, but as the years passed he wished for something more.  
One night, after watching telly, Angela turned to Phil. “Honey,” she began. Phil hummed to let her know he was listening. “We’re 23 now, we’ve got good jobs, we’re in good health, everything’s looking good. Right?”  
Phil hummed again.  
“I think it’s time to have a baby.”  
Phil started coughing.  
“Sorry, a baby? Now?” he choked out. Angela looked at him, slightly annoyed. “Yeah, well, we’ve gotta have a baby,” she huffed. “Might as well have it now.”  
“I- I don’t think we should yet,” Phil stuttered.  
“Why not?” Angela asked, her brow furrowed.  
“I just- I just- I don’t know, just not yet!” he cried. Angela was looking angry, so he pushed himself off the sofa.  
“You’re being irrational,” Angela sighed. “Go have a think about things. And come back in an hour, for supper. We’ll talk then.”  
Phil was annoyed, because that had been exactly what he was going to do. Now that Angela had suggested it, a childish resistance rose within him. He made to argue and then thought better of it. Feeling like a petulant child, he stalked off to the front door. The portal’s destination field glared at him, daring him to input co-ordinates. “I don’t know!” he said angrily. “Ugh, just- the- take me to the park!”  
The portal’s screen beeped in recognition and ordered the destination. Phil stepped outside into the park. The few other portals scattered about by the park’s entrance were empty; the whole park was clear. Phil started walking into the park without set destination in mind. A swing set was amongst the park equipment, and Phil almost laughed at the cliché image he saw. He sat on the swing and kicked himself into movement. He started climbing higher into the sky. The grey grass and cold ground soon was far below him and he could taste the clear grey of the cloudy sky. If he squinted hard enough the clouds parted and a crystalline blue appeared. The higher he swooped the freer he felt. His heart soared outside of his body. Tears formed in his eyes.  
“It’s not often you see a grown man swinging that high,” a sharp voice called from the ground. Phil fell from the sky in shock, stumbling onto the damp grass and badly hurting his ankle. He swore loudly. “Who are- what are- why-“ he stuttered. The source of the call stood by his head, which began blushing in complete shame. The man, or boy, he looked very young, was wearing a pure black tuxedo. Phil scrambled onto his feet, allowing a deep grimace to flash across his face as he realised his ankle was probably twisted.  
“Your clumsiness is literally the funniest thing I have ever seen,” the boy laughed. Phil had not yet recovered from his embarrassment. “What the hell?” he settled on asking.  
“What do you mean ‘what the hell’?” The boy asked innocently.  
Phil raised his eyebrows. “A kid in a suit appears out of nowhere and makes me fall off a swing. There are so many things wrong in this sentence.”  
The boy laughed. “First of all, I’m 18. Not a kid, as you so kindly put it. Secondly, this is a tuxedo. You should recognise a classic, especially if it’s McQueen,” he said seriously, pointing at his own lapel. “And thirdly, what’s up with the swinging?”  
Phil looked this boy- man- teenager- kid up and down. He was tall, almost as tall as Phil, and thin under the tailored tuxedo, which Phil still didn’t care about. Who was this McQueen? He didn’t know. He didn’t really want to know. The boy’s hair was a soft brown and flopped into his eyes. Phil noticed that his eyes were a very rich brown.  
“What kind of a world do we live in if a grown man isn’t allowed to swing?” he asked rhetorically. The guy laughed.  
“That’s very true. I’m Dan. Daniel James Howell. Although if you insist on calling me my full name, like my mother does, then we can’t be friends. Just Dan, please.”  
His hand grabbed Phil’s into a forceful handshake. Phil’s hand was crushed in the shake and it tingled angrily after. He shook the strange sensation out.  
“Why are you in a tux?” Phil asked. “Phil, by the way.”  
Dan shifted his weight from one leg to the other. His face was curious- a hint of a grimace pulled his cheek, then his one brow cocked, and then a shrewd smile twisted his mouth.  
“Well, Phil, I’ve just come from my wedding.”  
Phi’s eyebrows shot up. A wedding? That would explain the tuxedo. But not his presence at the park. “And you came here why?”  
Dan scratched the back of his head in a comical gesture. “Well, I hated my fiancé and didn’t like the idea of being forced into having sex with her. So I ran away.”  
Phil blanched at the boy’s frank language. “You ran away?!” he cried. “But that’s- how- what a stupid- I mean-“  
“You are so eloquent,” Dan mocked him, rolling his eyes resolutely. He turned on his heel and sat on the other empty swing. Phil stood silently, watching Dan’s back as he held onto the chains of the swings. He was obviously feeling a world of terrible emotions. Phil didn’t know what to do. He quietly joined Dan on the other swing.  
“Why’d you hate her?” he asked almost inaudibly after a few minutes. Dan scoffed. He was firmly avoiding Phil’s gaze. “Yeah, how dare I hate my ‘perfect counterpart’?”  
“Well, she is technically perfect for you,” Phil hedged. Dan threw a disappointed glance Phil’s way before staring up at the clouds again. “You’re as brainwashed as the rest of them,” he murmured, more a realisation than an accusation.  
“I am not brainwashed!” Phil blustered, irate. Dan chuckled lowly. “Is that so?” he seemed to challenge. “Yeah,” Phil huffed.  
Dan nodded slowly. “Okay, then. Tell me, what job do you have?”  
“I’m a video editor.”  
“Is it your dream job?”  
“Yes, I love what I do. It’s a great job and I’m very good at it.”  
Dan sighed. “Okay. Do you like living here?” His arms released the chains to gesture at the dismal park around them.  
“Yeah; of course. This is a great city. Mn-Chstr protects us and provides for us.”  
Dan groaned, tipping his head back. “Can you even hear yourself? Can you hear the brainwashed lies?”  
Phil deliberated. “I- well- I-“  
Dan’s eyes followed Phil’s lips, waiting for an answer that wasn’t programmed into Phil’s mind. “Well?”  
“I guess… I never thought about it as brainwashing.”  
“Well. It is.”  
Phil’s brow furrowed. “But Mn-Chstr does take care of us- you can’t deny that. We have homes, we have loving wives-“  
Dan exploded with harsh laughter. “Loving? Loving? It’s all a scam!”  
Phil made to protest again, but instead just asked, “How so?”  
Dan’s insane laughter faded. He tightened his grips on the chains and leaned his head back. “Love isn’t this. This clean-cut, perfect procedure we’re raised to believe is what we’re supposed to follow. Doesn’t it bother you? In the slightest?”  
Phil was quiet for a long time.  
The thoughts mulled over each other in his head. “It never did,” he admitted slowly. “I met Angela and she was great, a good friend. We got married, and she was a good wife. And I had a good job. And... that was it. It was everything.”  
Phil looked over at Dan who was staring intently at him. “I...” he blushed. “I expected more, I guess.”  
Dan nodded. “Do you love Angela?” he asked.  
Phil hastened to nod. “Yeah, I do,” he said. It was an automatic response, and not an untrue one. “I do love her.”  
Dan rolled his eyes, and Phil felt a burst of strange indignation rise in his chest. Dan was losing interest in him, in his boring story. “I don’t think I love her like the books say I should,” he said quickly. It was a thought he had barely even let himself think, not even fleetingly. “More like, friendship, or companionship. The books all say that when you meet your future partner there’s a flash of love, and your first kiss on your wedding ignites a passion, and all this stuff I didn’t feel.”  
Phil’s mouth was running a marathon, and all these secret thoughts were beginning to release. Something indignant inside of him wished to impress this enigmatic boy. Dan only looked at Phil, an unreadable expression on his face.  
“I’m bored,” Phil admitted, guilt trembling in his belly followed by gasping relief at the confession. “I hate my job- oh lord, I hate my job, I hate my house, I hate my food, I hate my life!” He started laughing maniacally. “What the hell?” he giggled. “Why am I telling you this? I’ve never said that before!”  
His giggles died down and his grin boiled down into a frown. “Say something, Dan, I feel weird now.” Dan said nothing. Phil became incredibly uncomfortable.  
“Dan?”  
Dan started swinging himself, kicking his shiny shoes high into the air and propelling himself higher and higher. Phil watched his determination as he swung faster and faster, eventually becoming almost parallel with the ground. The metal frame of the swing creaked loudly. Phil looked at Dan and could see the boy felt like Phil had, earlier, when Phil was trying to fly away.  
“Is this all there is?” Dan called into the winds. “Is this all there is for me?” And Dan was screaming. The sound echoed around the park, stopping at the holographic barriers that fenced the area. He screamed until Phil couldn’t handle it anymore. He jumped from his swing and tried to stop Dan’s swing. The seat and the boy it held barrelled into his stomach and Phil cried out and fell backward onto the ground. Dan stumbled off onto the ground as well, still screaming. Phil scrambled to do something- hug him maybe, comfort him. He wrapped his arms around the now dirty tuxedo. Dan was shaking with his hysteria. Phil started saying Dan’s name over and over, completely terrified. When it didn’t help he ripped Dan around to face him and slapped Dan hard across the face.  
Dan fell silent. His cheek shone red, and his dull eyes looked into Phil’s. Phil hated himself then, for what he did, but he knew it was needed. He looked deep into this scared boy’s eyes. “Listen Dan,” Phil said strongly. “I don’t know you. This is strange, this isn’t done. You don’t run from your wedding to scream with a guy you’ve just met.”  
Dan dropped his eyes. His previous cocky front had long since vanished and Phil saw him for his true self.  
“But I can guess that you don’t like the boring, normal way.”  
Dan laughed hollowly.  
“I don’t know what you can do. You married her, you were always destined to marry her. And it’s your duty to love her and make a life with her. Even have a b-baby.” Phil took a deep breath. “It sucks but you- you just have to.”  
Dan nodded lifelessly.  
“I wish I could say it gets better, but it clearly doesn’t,” Phil mumbled. “But we’ve got each other now. We’re alike, I think. And I can be there if you need me.”  
Dan thought Phil’s words over. He nodded slowly. “I’m sorry I... got a little out of control.”  
“It’s fine,” Phil said comfortingly.  
“And I’m sorry to dump this on you when you were just trying to have a bit of a swing,” Dan said.  
“Well, actually,” Phil sighed. “Angela just told me she wants to start having our baby.”  
Dan grimaced.  
The two sat on the ground, comfortably silent together in the midst of their troubles.  
After a while, Phil patted Dan on the knee. “I think it’s time you go back to your wife. It- she might be mad.”  
Dan nodded morosely. He got to his feet wiping a few stray tears from his cheeks. Phil pretended not to see. “Take my information,” he said suddenly. Dan activated his tablet and Phil sent him the information. “Now, if you ever need a friend, you can take the portal to my place. We can talk. Or something.”  
“Thanks,” Dan said softly.  
Phil watched Dan slouch off toward a portal. Within seconds he had phased away, presumably back to his waiting wife. And angry family. Phil pitied him.  
The lingering presence of thought concerning his own problems slunk back into his mind. Phil pushed them away and took the portal home. Angela was cooking dinner when he returned. He stood in the kitchen door and watched her for a while. She was still beautiful. Her long dark hair was pulled back into a loose braid. “Well?” she asked, not turning around. “Are we having our baby?”  
“It's expected of us,” Phil said. He took two steps forward, reaching a lost hand up to ghost over his wife’s shoulder. He had never felt more apart from her. It seemed as if there was an entire galaxy between them; a galaxy of broken promises and unspoken lies.  
Angela turned to dish up two plates of beef stew. “Yeah, it is,” she agreed.  
Phil took his lukewarm plate and walked into the dining room. “It would be nice to have a little change around here, I guess,” he said casually. He tried his hardest to imagine the months to come; Angela’s bulging belly, the distant crying of an infant, the pattering of small feet. A phantom child lingered behind his eyes- a child with a gappy smile and shimmering blue eyes. It seemed unreal. He couldn’t grasp the image- it was watery, transparent, slipping away.  
Phil couldn’t imagine having a child with Angela. It was too strange.  
And little did he want to admit it, but there was a new colour on his spectrum. Brown. Warm and earthy, completely different from all the cold colours that had come before. Black and white and blue. Phil could feel the change in the air, in his bones.  
And it frightened him.  
From a faraway land, Angela hummed.  
The couple ate dinner as they always did, in the quiet din of the dining room.


	3. Doors

They had been having sex every night. Phil, who had never realised their awkward movements were not the definition of making love, resented it wholeheartedly. He had to conceal the fact that she just wasn’t attractive to him. It would break her if she knew.  
Phil tried, he really did. He ran his fingers along her smooth body, and stared into her blue eyes, and curled the shorter tresses of her hair around a finger as he idly mouthed along her neckline. She smelled sweet; vanilla and peppermint. Her lips were thin but warm, her breasts supple and firm.  
But Phil just couldn’t; not anymore. Their bodies touching were a lie. The wet promise of slapping skin was a hiss of pretence in his ear, over and over as he thrust into her quivering body. She would reach up and grasp his neck, trying to find his lips in the dark, and Phil could only sigh and close his eyes. Searching for something to push him over the stale edge of the cliff.  
When brown eyes filled his mind he tried not to think what it meant.  
Two weeks had passed since that different, alternate –dare Phil say amazing?- day when Dan messaged him for the first time. It simply said, “Coming over”. Phil stared at the two words uncomprehendingly for a while. Dan? Dan was going to be in his home. The two images jarred in his head; the tall teenager did not compute with the white walls and glossy floors. It was almost unholy to compare them.  
While Phil was numbly staring at the screen, another message came through: “Hope you’re home”.  
A burst of guilty gladness trickled through Phil. He was secretly glad Angela was out for lunch with her work friends. He could not face her intensely blue eyes. She was often out on the weekends; something Phil was grateful for. He found the solitude restful- he could shut his mind from the world and be someone else.  
A knock sounded on the door.  
Dan. Dan. Phil bounded to open it, and there he stood. Not in a tuxedo, this time, but in a shirt and jeans. All black. Phil was pleased to see another grown person still wearing skinny jeans. Well, Dan was younger than him. But the pleasure remained.  
Dan pushed past Phil and headed straight for the lounge. “Um, okay,” Phil said stupidly. What had Phil expected? A hug and a box of chocolates? He followed after Dan, who had bonelessly collapsed on the plush sofa. Phil carefully sat next to him. It was quiet for a bit. All of the words that Phil had built in his mind tumbled out onto the floor.  
“So...” Phil started to say, daring a glance at the younger boy. He had thrown an arm over his eyes. Phil was almost glad he didn’t have to look into those brown eyes, those mind-haunting brown eyes. “What’s up?” Phil asked, overtly casually. He felt as if he were a bubble floating in time; any spoken word or movement could cause everything to pop. And fall to devastated pieces. It was such a strange situation; two weeks ago he had been stuck in the same eye-gouging monotony and now there was a stranger on his sofa. This specific stranger. Dan.  
Dan made an odd sound; it was like a strangled keening, sort of groaning sound. Phil’s concerned eyes flickered over the boy as he cautiously nudged Dan’s knee. “Everything’s wonderful, obviously,” Dan said derisively.  
“Ah, sarcasm,” Phil tittered. “I was under the impression you’d come over when you need to talk. If you’re going to be an idiot, then maybe you should leave.”  
Dan slid the arm from off his face and glowered at Phil. “I don’t appreciate your reverse psychology,” he sneered.  
Phil heaved a sigh. “You can drop the front, you know. It’s only me.”  
“It’s only a stranger I met two weeks ago in the park.”  
“And yet you came to me.”  
“Touché.”  
They stared at each other for a while, words unnecessary for a long moment. Conversations hung on the precipice of their eyes. Then they broke into indulgent giggles, something Phil hadn’t done for a very long time.  
“Talk to me,” Phil implored. Dan made that keening noise again and slid off the sofa until his head was on the floor and his legs in the air. Phil almost stopped him. The words ‘That’s not how you use a sofa,’ were on the tip of his tongue. Then the words, Dan’s words, came back to him. “Brainwashed.” Phil decided rather to ignore everything he was taught. It was something he found that he decided a lot whenever Dan was concerned.  
“Francesca is absolutely infuriating,” Dan said, his hair dangling to brush the floor.  
“She isn’t perfect for you, I guess,” Phil conceded, starting to pick the frayed bits at the bottom of his jeans, which he was only allowed to wear on the weekends.  
“The agonising thing is that she is,” Dan grumbled. “In another world, in another time, I think I could have loved her. She’s sweet and funny and pretty and doesn’t take bullshit from anyone, especially me. She works hard, and kinda makes me want to work hard too. She cooks mind-blowing food and likes to watch the same television shows that I do.”  
“What’s the problem, then?” Phil asked. For the oddest reason, he felt a tingle of hurt.  
“I didn’t choose her!”  
“But she sounds great, like someone you can get along with. It may not have been your choice but at the very least you can build a decent life with her.”  
Dan’s eyes flashed at these words. “I don’t want a ‘decent’ life, or a ‘perfect’ one!” he growled. He pulled himself onto the floor and sat up properly. “I want messy, and real, and different, and special, and amazing, and everything that this isn’t! I want to meet someone random and just kiss them if I wanted to, not be told who to marry and when to kiss them. I want to fall in love abruptly and illegally. I want to- I want to-“  
And Dan lunged forward and pressed his lips to Phil’s.  
The books said that when you kiss your life partner for the first time, there are sparks and fireworks. Phil hadn’t felt that with Angela. He thought that the books were exaggerating. Now here, in an awkward embrace with this boy’s lips on his, he realised suddenly that they hadn’t been. In a wave of panic he pushed Dan off of him.  
“What the hell?” Phil screeched. His cheeks were burnt crimson, his heart confusedly galloping and his lips on fire.  
Dan looked incredibly embarrassed. He scratched the back of his neck furiously. “I’m sorry, I just... wanted to make a point.”  
“By kissing me? Do you know how illegal that is?” Phil was gasping. He was avoiding the thought of how it had felt. Of how his lips were still prickling.  
“I don’t care,” Dan said miserably. His eyes turned from vulnerable to adamant. Steely. “I thought you wouldn’t either.”  
“We are both guys,” Phil said wildly, knowing full well that wasn’t the reason he was aflame with confusion. Or maybe it was. He leapt up from the sofa and walked around the coffee table, putting some distance between him and Dan. The table didn’t seem to be enough- heat, Dan’s heat, still rushed over his body.  
“You did kiss back, though,” Dan said, a smirk beginning to form on his pink mouth. Phil blinked rapidly.  
“I most certainly did not,” Phil huffed. “I- You- How could you just- argh!” With a hopeless expletion of air, he sat down. The floor was cold through his thin jeans. The gleaming white tiles seemed accusatory.  
“It was just a kiss,” Dan said softly. Phil refused to look up, to trace that soft voice that so caressed the air. “It doesn’t have to mean anything.”  
“Yeah, no,” Phil mumbled angrily. “You might not think so, but kisses do mean everything. They mark the beginning of a lifetime together. They aren’t just fodder that you can throw every which way.” Phil scowled as Dan just shrugged.  
“It was nice though, wasn’t it?” Dan asked, mockingly coquettishly.  
“No.” It had been.  
“You kissed back.”  
“I did not.” He had.  
“You know,” Dan mused, “the only way you can prove your innocence is to kiss me again. And, you know, not feel or do anything. Then I’ll believe you.”  
Phil narrowed his eyes, not trusting Dan’s innocent smile. Indignation and denial were blooming in his chest and in that very second, he believed Dan’s words. “All right,” Phil said slowly. “I’ll prove myself.” He’d prove to himself that the brown eyes that haunted his thoughts were just… Phil couldn’t finish the thought.  
“Okay, good,” Dan said with a grin. He stood there, waiting for Phil to come closer. Phil deliberated for a moment, unable to push his feet forward. Dan rolled his eyes. He moved closer. Suddenly there was a Dan very close to Phil’s face. He was very pretty, Phil noted, before mentally kicking himself.  
“Just to prove myself,” Phil whispered. He didn’t know why he’d started whispering. It seemed appropriate. Dan’s breath tickled his lips and all Phil could look at were the plump pink beauties that were Dan’s lips. His last coherent thought was, ‘When did I become such a poet?’ Agonisingly slowly he leaned forward.  
Their lips brushed. Phil’s eyes slid shut. Their lips were brushing each other softly, over and over, until Dan sighed and clasped Phil’s neck with his hand and pressed their lips firmly together. Phil forgot about everything but the feeling of Dan’s mouth. His arms automatically encircled Dan’s waist. Dan, to his shock, placed his other hand on his hip. Everywhere they touched was burning.  
Dan started tugging Phil’s bottom lip with his teeth, something that made Phil groan with pleasure. The kiss deepened further and became hotter, wetter, when Dan slipped his tongue into Phil’s mouth. The kiss moved faster, changing from sensual kisses to frantic ones. Their mouths moved together and Phil’s hands ached to touch. He brought his trailing fingers up to Dan’s head and interwove them with his hair. Dan moaned when Phil pulled on his hair, so Phil did it again.  
Dan pressed his lithe body against Phil’s and a wave of burning desire rolled through Phil’s stomach. Phil panted against Dan’s hot mouth and became aware, very suddenly, that he was hard.  
The world came rushing back.  
He pushed Dan away from him and scrambled from the room. He ran into the downstairs bathroom and locked the door. He and looked into the mirror. He was vividly red, his hair mussed, his eyes blown. He groaned loudly.  
A timid knock interrupted him. “What?” he called, annoyed at Dan for coming into his house and making him feel and do things he didn’t want to.  
“I’m not sorry for kissing you,” Dan said loudly through the door.  
Phil rolled his eyes at the insolent teenager. With shaking hands he activated the sink sensor and held his hands under the cold stream for a while. He dragged his dripping fingers over his face, trying to rub life into his numb cheeks.  
“But I’m sorry you feel weird about it.”  
“You are so eloquent,” Phil said, imitating Dan’s mocking statement from weeks before.  
“I’m sorry, okay? Please can you come out? We can talk about this. This thing we have.” Dan was incessantly rapping his knuckles on the door.  
“We don’t have a thing!” Phil hissed, running a wet hand through his hair.  
“Why are you making such a big deal out of this?” Dan asked through the keyhole.  
“Big deal? You think this isn’t a big deal?” Phil asked angrily, staring at the bathroom door. The white door hid so much, and yet separated so little. “You come into my life and make me think things, illegal things, and then kiss me, illegally, and think I’ll be okay with it? By giving me what is easily the worst apology anyone has ever said to someone, ever.”  
Dan was quiet for a bit. “I am sorry,” he said lowly. With a crumbling headache, Phil sat on the lid of the toilet. “No, you’re not,” he sighed.  
“Sorry?”  
“You got exactly what you wanted. You kissed a stranger, illegally, who kissed you back. It was messy and different and-“  
“And special.”  
“Well, I don’t know if-“  
“And amazing.”  
“Yeah, but-“  
“Please open the door.”  
A moment passed. Phil supposed he couldn’t stay in the bathroom forever. He took two deep breaths and then stood up. The handle was cold to his touch as he unlocked the door and pulled it open.  
Dan stood there, hands in his pockets and a pleading look in his eye. “I want to kiss you again,” Dan admitted. Phil made to swing the door shut again but Dan stopped him with surprising strength. “But,” he continued. “I’m not going to. I… I respect that you’re uncomfortable with it.”  
“Thanks, I guess,” Phil said, unsure of what to do or say. His limbs felt too long for his body.  
“Even though you did kiss back,” Dan muttered under his breath.  
“Yeah, okay, I did. You win,” Phil rolled his eyes. He pushed past Dan rather roughly and headed for the kitchen. He had never needed a cup of tea as much as he did right then. Dan followed him.  
“Tea?”  
“Yeah.”  
Phil input the directions on the machine. Dan watched him.  
“Milk and three sugars,” Dan said before Phil had to ask. The mugs materialised, filled to the brim with piping hot liquid. Phil gingerly placed the mugs on the kitchen table. Phil sat down. Dan sat down. They took a scalding sip of tea as one.  
Phil attempted to ignore the boy staring at him. He focused on the steam swirling in wondrous curls above his mug. The solid silence hung in the air between them, a decoration of the awkward events that transpired.  
“How’s Angela?” Dan asked.  
Phil furrowed his brow, unwilling to think of Angela that moment. The guilt that had been pushed to the back of his mind now tipped forward, filling his thoughts with “Oh God” and “No, no, no”.  
Phil’s eyes flickered upward, widening when they met Dan’s. He brought his mind back to Angela, thinking maybe this time he could love her. He needed to- he had to-  
“We’ve been having a lot of sex,” he said casually, taking another long sip of tea to quell his rising thoughts.  
Dan choked loudly. “Oh, really?” he asked redundantly, trying to mop up the puddle of tea on the counter he had spewed. Phil watched him struggle, unwilling to help him.  
“Yeah,” he said. “She wants to get pregnant, remember?”  
“How’s that going?” Dan seemed genuinely curious.  
“Well, we’re having a lot of sex.”  
“Lucky you, then.” Dan seemed simultaneously facetious and congratulating.  
Phil’s eyes dropped and an expression of absolute anguish flashed across his features.  
“Wait, what was that?” Dan pressed, having seen the look.  
“Nothing,” Phil said.  
“Bullshit, what’s wrong?” Dan set down his mug and stared intently at Phil.  
“For fuck’s sake, Dan!” Phil never swore. “Two weeks ago, in the park, you made me think things I’d never had to think of before! And now I have to live with the knowledge that I don’t want Angela in that way! I have to look in her eyes and lie, lie constantly about what I’m feeling and how I’m doing! I close my eyes when we make love because I don’t want her there, I want-“  
He stopped.  
“Yes?” Dan asked.  
“Nothing. Just… not her. And it’s unfair to Ang, she’s an amazing woman and doesn’t need this crap from me.” Phil’s head collapsed into his hands.  
Dan looked disappointed.  
“And it’s all your fault,” Phil mumbled, fingers pressing into his eyes until small red lights popped. “If I hadn’t met you, I’d still be naive and brainwashed.” Phil picked his head up blearily. “And I’d be okay that way.”  
Dan threw his head back in disgust. “’Okay’! Just ‘okay’! I’m sorry, but don’t you want more? How can you be satisfied with that?”  
“Yes, I want more! That’s the whole problem!” Their rising voices reached the ceiling.  
Phil stood up, entwining his hands into his hair.  
“It’s not a problem! It’s human nature! It’s who we are!”  
“No, it’s not, you’re just making a mess where there shouldn’t be one! You’re just a bratty child!”  
“I am not!” Dan jumped up in anger. “How dare you call me that? You don’t know anything!”  
“And you do?! You are so naive- you think you can run off from your little wife and screw up someone else’s life when all you have to do is sit quietly and accept your fate!”  
“No! It’s not my fate. You’re wrong! I- You’re such an idiot!”  
“Yeah, well, you’re an idiot too!”  
The two stared at each other in silent abating fury. Phil had no time to think or regret his actions; he grabbed Dan’s shirt and pulled him closer across the table, kissing him soundly. The mugs of cooling tea were knocked to the gleaming white floor, but Phil couldn’t care.  
The world was his, in that moment, captured between two warm lips. His hands ached to touch every inch of Dan’s body. He wanted everything, all at once, and had nothing. Nothing was enough.  
Dan’s mouth quivered under his- two hands reached up and placed themselves on Phil’s chest. For two beats they rested there; then they clenched, and Dan pushed Phil away. “Why are you kissing me, Phil?” he moaned, “I’m so confused- what do you want?”  
Phil blinked. “I, I don’t know. You. Your lips. They’re... they make fireworks.”  
Dan stared at him for several infinities. So much went unsaid in his eyes. Finally, with one last disparaging sigh, he said, “Look, I’m going to go. Everything’s just really mixed up and I need to… to be away from this. You. I need to think. Okay?”  
Phil couldn’t nod. He stood there in the kitchen, listening as Dan left the room and activated the front door. The beeps of Dan inputting his destination was the only sound in the house, other than Phil’s beating heart.


	4. Window

Silence. Throbbing pulse. Blink. Blink. Blink.   
Drip. Drip. Drip.  
The mutilated silence, fraught with the sounds of dripping tea, awoke Phil from a frozen stupor. With sludgy movements he turned to appraise the shattered mugs on the floor. Tea was pooling along the floor and table top. Phil had never seen the kitchen in such a state. Angela would-  
Angela.  
Phil’s hands shot up to cradle his face. He dug his nails into his cheeks, pulling away at the skin until the stinging pain matched how he felt inside. He may have choked, “Oh God,” he may have stuttered a gasping breath, he may have swayed in place.   
You need to calm down.   
His voice of reason, who always guided him in uncertain times, sounded like Angela. Phil groaned as her teary blue eyes flashed before his eyes; a ghostly image of a broken heart. You can’t tell her, Phil, the voice told him. She can’t know. She doesn’t deserve this.  
Phil pushed a hand over his shaking mouth and breathed deeply through his nose. Calming techniques. His life was crumbling and he had no way to bind it all together again. You can start with cleaning the kitchen.  
Phil squared his shoulders, attempting to evoke some kind of feeling in his numb limbs. He stepped across the puddle of tea and clutched at the fragments of porcelain. With one swift movement he dumped them into the disposal unit. As he watched it whir and disintegrate the rubbish, he noticed red droplets beading on his fingers. He’d cut himself. With something akin to interest, he watched the red swell from the micro cuts on his hands. He brought his palm up to his eyes and stared deeply at the blood. The whiff of iron fascinated him.   
Phil, that is a wound. Take care of it.  
Phil stuck his hands into the sink and watched as water poured over them. Pink water swirled down the drain. He watched as the nanobots in the supplemented water knitted his skin together. Something that had always fascinated him before seemed lifeless now. Sometimes people want to stay broken.  
Phil activated the iDomestic and watched as the sleek robot hovered for a split second, scanning the entire house. It descended upon the splattered tea and disintegrated it, leaving the floor sparkling white. Just like before.  
Phil heard the robot whiz into the living room, where the robot was surely straightening the creased sofa. Within seconds it was back, beeping twice before shutting off in its original position.  
Now Angela had nothing to suspect, but Phil himself.   
******************  
Angela opened the front door, nudging the hovercart forward with one leg. It was laden with shopping, treasure from her fruitful day out on the town with her friends. “Phil!” she called. No one answered. She shrugged and went inside to lay down her shopping. She plucked a rectangular package from the heap of goods and went on an exhibition. “Phil?” she called again. “Ph-“ He was asleep on the sofa. The holographic TV was playing, muted, on the far wall. Angela rolled her eyes fondly.   
“Phil,” she whispered as she sat down on the floor by the sofa. “Wake up, honey.” She brushed a soft kiss over his stubbly cheek. Phil exhaled slowly, the warm air tickling Angela’s lips. “Ang?” he mumbled, shifting slightly and opening bleary eyes.  
“Yeah, love. It’s me.”  
Phil’s lips stretched into a lazy smile, before freezing. He sat up quickly. “Um,” he stuttered.  
“What’s wrong?” Angela asked, an eyebrow quirking in confusion. Phil laughed nervously. “No, nothing, just feeling guilty that you caught me sleeping,” he said, his eyes darting around the room.  
Angela grinned. “You work so hard, Phil. You’re allowed a long nap now and then. Anyway,” she continued, drawing out the word. “I have something for you.”  
Phil looked wary. Angela could only laugh at him.  
“A present, you idiot!” she snorted, before placing the package on Phil’s lap. He looked surprisingly conflicted, shooting her an unfathomable look before tearing the paper off.   
The book sat in his lap amidst scraps of paper as Phil looked on with the strangest look in his eyes. “You bought me An Eternity of Galaxies,” he whispered.  
“I knew you wanted a hard copy of your favourite book, Phil. I saw it at Paper Plus today.” Angela was watching Phil’s face, enjoying the emotions she spotted there. Surprise, happiness, touched… guilty, sad? “What’s wrong?” she whispered, placing her hand on his knee. Phil rubbed a hand over his face. “It’s just-“ he sighed. “You’re such a great wife.”  
“I know,” Angela teased, slightly worried at how depressed Phil sounded over it. “But why does that make you sad?”  
“I could never be this good of a husband for you, Ang. You deserve more,” he breathed.  
Angela rose from the floor and sat next to Phil, wrapping her arms around him. “You’re absolutely perfect, Phil,” she whispered in his ear. “You’re the best husband anyone could ever ask for.”  
When tears shone in Phil’s eyes, Angela was overcome with how moved he seemed to be.  
***********************  
Monday dawned. Grey, dreary, and mildly cold. As always. Phil’s tablet buzzed at 7 o’clock, pulling him from a whirling vortex of confusing dreams, where blues and browns swallowed him whole. Angela had already awoken and was in the bathroom, singing a song Phil didn’t know. Her clear, sweet voice made Phil smile as well as constricted his heart.   
He left the crumpled sheets – they had had sex again the previous night – and went downstairs in search of cereal. He sat in silence as he spooned sugary cereal into his mouth. Tasteless. Angela joined him soon after, her hair damp and pulled into a loose braid over one shoulder. Phil stared at her as she bustled around the kitchen. Her bare feet padded lightly across the tiles. She had bright blue toenails. She hummed lightly as she poured herself a cup of tea. Two sugars, milk. She performed a jazzy interlude as she waited for the slices of bread to toast. She gave Phil a sweet kiss over his half eaten bowl of cereal. Her eyes sparkled with love.  
She was perfect. Phil had never been less in love with perfection.  
When eight ticked nearer, agonising seconds filled with silence, Phil rose from the breakfast table. “Are you off, then?” Angela asked, liberally spreading grape jam on her second slice of toast. Phil nodded shortly and, after a moment of thought, pressed a quick kiss to Angela’s forehead. “I’ll see you tonight, Ang,” he called as he headed for the door. Angela’s mouthful of toast prevented her from speaking, so she lifted a sticky hand to wave as she went. The screen by the door beeped as Phil drew nearer. His work co-ordinates filled in automatically. He opened the door and eyed the portal waiting for him. It glowed blood red for a moment, intensely so, before blinking blue. Phil stepped onto the portal and left his black and white house behind.  
The BBC building, flashy with gleaming silver design, dominated his field of vision. It rose up, higher than the eye could see, dissolving into the sky peppered with clouds. Phil stepped off the portal, glancing around the plaza he stood in. Hundreds of portals, flashing with incoming workers, surrounded him. The portal he had just come from filled with a greying man. “Out of the way,” the man grumbled, and Phil hurried toward the BBC entrance, embarrassment coursing through his veins.  
The lobby was filled with crowds of people heading toward a second set of portals. Phil joined the streaming lines. He felt as if his eyes had been peeled- everything was new, and vivid, and shocking. All of the people surrounding him were on their Mn-Chstr regulated tablets, thousands of images consumed in seconds. Phil could see their eyes glinting dully, reflecting the harsh glare of the screens. Phil thought of all the mornings leading up to this day. He had been just the same.  
He reached the front of the portal queue. When Phil stepped onto the plate, the portal glowed red and a disembodied voice said, “Identified: Philip Michael Lester. Rerouting destination.”  
And Phil was in his office.  
Perfectly gleaming white walls paired with genetically perfect pot plants encircled a sleek desk. With a deep sigh, Phil sat on the same office chair, at the same desk, with the same iHolo Mac blinking at him. The three screens activated upon his sitting down. The screen on the left, the Mn-Chstr news stream – a government requirement – showed Phil’s social media feed. He scanned it briefly, skimming over sordid stories of celebrity Maric Boswell, who had apparently been out drinking past twelve. Phil rolled his eyes.  
The screen to his right was dominated by the BBC feed. Phil’s workload for the day popped up. It was a standard amount of work. The middle screen, the most important screen, held the editing software. Phil needed to construct slightly terrible reality shows.  
With one final, lingering glance at the blank wall, Phil pulled on his headphones and began to work. He shifted uncomfortably in his regulation office chair, which was so perfectly crafted and comfortable it bothered him.  
A bit later, in the midst of choosing the best angle to show the losing entries for Galaxy Dancing, a pop-up appeared on the BBC screen.  
Phil reached to swipe it off the screen, hardly reading it. A split second before deletion he halted, eyes drawn to the words. “Tune in to BBC Radio at 9 to support BBC’s newest radio presenter – Dan Howell!”  
Phil’s stomach ached. There he was. Dan Howell. The name branded into Phil’s eyes until all he could see was brown eyes. Soft lips. Gasps. Broken mugs.  
He shook his head lightly. The whispers of Dan Howell, Dan Howell, rose and fell in his mind, driving him insane. Phil bit down on his lip until the pain brought him back down. He stared at his editing program, memorising the features of the girl in a cerulean dress until all thoughts other than editing had left him.  
When 9 came, Phil decided it was a complete coincidence that he turned the radio on. It wasn’t because of… Dan.  
His ears filled with the last strains of a song he didn’t know. “And that was Lil Creed with ‘Crazy Days’. Hello, viewers! ‘Who’s that posh voice in my ear?’ I hear you say. Well, firstly I would say that it’s not posh, it’s articulate. And secondly I’d say that I’m Dan Howell, word master extraordinaire, and I’ll be dominating BBC Radio from now on – well, weekdays from nine to ten. Which I suppose isn’t really ‘dominating’, is it? But enough of my awkwardness – here’s Marci Vikki with ‘Exam’.”  
That didn’t sound like Dan at all, Phil thought confusedly. He turned down the volume as the annoying song played – a cacophony of buzzing and beats. Dan was sullen, and sarcastic, and snarky, and a host of other s-words that didn’t match the charming voice on the radio.  
Dan is in the building right now, Phil realised. For a moment he sat, utterly frozen, tingling as the urge to leap from his chair and find Dan overpowered him.  
Several seconds of internal struggle led to Phil calming down. “No,” he whispered to himself, rubbing his tired eyes until lights blinked in and out of existence. I shouldn’t even listen to this, the voice of reason so reminiscent of Angela told him.  
Phil didn’t switch the radio off.  
******************  
Phil had been staring at the clock for six minutes. Every second dragged like an hour – five o’ clock felt like a millennium away. A loud ding brought his attention back to the editing screen.  
“Uh-oh! It seems you haven’t worked for 5:47 whole minutes! Is everything okay?”  
Phil selected the ‘Yes’ button, huffing as he did so. His eyes slid to the clock. Two minutes. His hand shook as he agitatedly clicked around on the editing program. His eyes flickered between the time and screen. One minute.  
A bead of agitated sweat rolled down Phil’s brow.  
The computer beeped. With one swift hand movement, Phil shut off the iHolo and swept off the discomforting office chair. In the blink of an eye he was by the portal, which glowed it’s customary crimson before an allowing blue. “Have a nice day, Philip Michael Lester,” a disembodied voice crooned in Phil’s ear. “Mn-Chstr cannot wait to see you tomorrow!”  
A chill rolled down Phil’s spine. Hastily, he stepped onto the portal. The lobby was no better; an amorphous crowd of people were leaving work. The rigidity of their movements, the malicious lack of light in their eyes and the set lines of their downturned mouths terrified Phil- encircling him with fear until his feet refused to move. Glued to the spot, he watched as unidentifiable soul after unidentifiable soul marched past him. The white glare of tablet screens dotting the grey scramble of men scalded his vision until all he saw was black and white, grey and white, white, white, white.  
Phil stumbled blindly through the crowd. Several affronted, ‘Hey!’s infiltrated his stupor but he didn’t care. Phil activated his tablet as he exited the lobby and breathed in the outside air. The plaza was buzzing with soulless movements as much as the lobby had been, but the freeing sky above lifted the maniacal lid off of Phil’s containment.  
Trembling hands found Dan’s contact details.   
He wanted – needed – to tell Dan. Something? Anything?   
“Heard you on the radio today.”  
It wasn’t enough. But it was all his shaking fingers could type.  
In milliseconds, a reply vibrated the screen.  
“Oh God. I was terrible, wasn’t I? I formally apologise for the ear damage.”  
Phil laughed; an aborted sound equated with a gasp of relief.   
“Oh, absolutely awful. Expect a lawsuit.”  
“You’re on.”  
The plaza was emptying. Phil stood in the midst of an open space, clutching his tablet eagerly, not noticing the furtively curious glances sent his way.  
“I never really pegged you as a radio guy.”  
“I’m not! I am so awkward, I hate it- but it’s what Mn-Chstr decided I was perfect for.”  
“Since when do you care about what Mn-Chstr says?”  
“Mn-Chstr is wonderful and cares for us all- why wouldn’t I?”  
Phil stilled his hand. That didn’t sound at all like Dan. Stomach dropping, he made to send a ‘???’ but stopped as a more terrifying message came through.  
‘Meet me at the park.’  
What was happening? Phil was reeling, head spinning as he tried to wrap his mind around the lightning exchange. The whirlwind called Dan Howell had surpassed him again and Phil just couldn’t keep up.   
He would get to see Dan again, he realised. Whether or not that would be a good thing remained to be seen.  
It didn’t take long to reach a portal, gasp out, “Alexander Valley Park,” and step onto the blue plate. It did, however, take long to step off again. Suspended in inter-dimensional plasma, he stared into the dismal park that held such jarring memories for him. Phil thought of the times he’d played there as a child, or met with Angela there, or gone for walks to escape his mind, or met strange people who tumbled his world upside down. Phil wondered what life would have been like if he hadn’t gone to the park that day. He wouldn’t be aware; he wouldn’t be haunted by the peeled reality of life.  
Phil wanted to stay in the portal womb forever.  
In the distance, a brown-headed figure appeared from behind a tree. Phil tumbled off the plate, tingling as he materialised. “Dan!” he called, trotting forward. The figure’s head snapped around to face Phil. Phil raised his hand to wave, not even attempting to quash the relieved swoop in his stomach to see the same Dan. Dan.  
“Not here,” Dan hissed as he approached him. The younger boy gripped Phil’s arm and dragged him over to the tree. “What are you doing?” Phil asked, bewildered.   
“Not. Here,” Dan bit out through clenched teeth. He glanced around him, ensuring the park’s emptiness, before clutching at the tree’s bark and hauling himself up. “Dan!” Phil almost screeched. A hand was lowered from the depths of the tree, which Phil stared at for a moment before grabbing. He was hoisted into the layered branches. “What are we doing?” Phil whispered.   
“We’re getting out of here,” Dan told him, moving carefully across the branches. “There’s a wall here,” Dan said lowly, pointing at a line behind a smattering of portals. “See how the park is squared off? The portals are the borders. No one ever thinks of passing them. They can’t.”  
“What?” Phil uttered, mouth hanging open.   
“There’s a barrier. A force-field. What you see beyond is an illusion. It’s like that everywhere – no one has ever seen the world. We’re all boxed in, like animals.”  
“Oh my God,” Phil breathed. “How has no one ever noticed?”  
Dan looked Phil solemnly in the eye. “Mn-Chstr won’t let that happen. Look at your tablet.”  
Phil activated it and saw his timeline filled with streams of messages – from Angela, from the BBC, from his mother. Tweets from his favourite celebrities popped up, all demanding his immediate attention.  
“They draw our eyes away from the truth with social media,” Dan said harshly. “We’re so distracted, constantly, that we never think to look up.”  
Phil pressed a quaking hand to his dry mouth.   
“So we can’t escape?”  
A devious grin lit up Dan’s face. “There is a way.”  
Dan wrenched the device from around Phil’s arm that activated his tablet and hid it in a whole in the tree. “This is tracked,” he explained. “As is your DNA when you use a portal.”  
Phil felt sick.  
He watched as Dan clambered across the tree’s reaching branches. He stopped right above the line of portals. Dan pulled a small black square from his pocket, the likes of which Phil had never seen before. Dan fiddled with the item until it beeped and he pressed it to his mouth. “Portal 14, Alexander Valley Park.”  
Phil watched, wide-eyed, as the portal below fizzled red, then blue, and then shocking orange. “Quickly,” Dan yelled. He grabbed Phil and they tumbled from the tree, hovering in orange light for a second before everything flashed black.   
Phil’s stomach was rolling. Bile rose in his throat. Was he lying down? He was pressed against something uncomfortable.  
When he opened his spinning eyes Dan was standing above him, hand extended. Groggily he got up, unable to take in his surroundings. “Wha-“ he managed to stutter.  
“Sorry,” Dan apologised. “It’s a bit disorienting the first time.”  
Phil dropped Dan’s hand, dazedly taking in where they were standing. “Wh-what is this?” he managed.  
They were standing in a darkened room, walls covered in luminescent graffiti. The far wall had crumpled into non-existence and Phil could see outside. A brown world, stretching as far as the eye could see, lay before them. Mind-bogglingly huge blocks were scattered about the earth, shimmering opaque, which hurt to look at. Masses of dirty green tents huddled into the dirt everywhere.   
“Dan?” he asked brokenly.  
“Phil,” Dan grinned. “Welcome to Manchester.”


	5. Wall

Dan’s brown eyes twinkled mischievously. For several moments Phil paused, mind bubbling with desperate questions to diminish the confusion. “I- Manchester- what-“ he burbled. A mountain of questions buzzed on his tongue, caught between trembling lips. At that moment, scurrying in the dust, a figure rose up out of the shadows and wrapped their arms around Phil. Phil gasped into the hand smothering his mouth.   
“Who are you?” a low voice growled in his ear. In terror, Phil struggled, looking at Dan in desperation. Dan had sprung forward and was wrestling the stranger off of Phil.   
“Will, for God’s sake. This is Phil,” he shouted.  
Phil was dropped immediately. His legs, weak from absolute shock, did not prevent him from crumbling to the floor. Wordlessly he stared at the two men above him.   
“So, this is Phil, huh?” the man named Will asked, a smirk hinting at his lips. He looked down to appraise a very shell-shocked Phil. “He doesn’t seem the type.”  
The type? Phil thought.  
Dan rolled his eyes. “Shut up, Will,” he grumbled. He turned his eyes to Phil, who was still sitting in the dirt. “You probably need some explaining,” he smiled, pulling Phil into standing position. Phil nodded slowly.   
“That’s the understatement of the millennium, I think,” he said softly, watching Will warily. Will chuckled.  
“No hard feelings about me attacking you, right?” he grinned, rubbing a hand over his stubbly chin. Phil looked him up and down – his features were familiar. Will was tall and strong, with kind brown eyes tucked into a weathered face. His hair fell in brown curls down to his shoulders. He seemed a good bit older than Phil, but Phil wasn’t sure whether to attribute that to age or danger.   
“I- I guess not,” he said finally. His stomach still felt tensed, and his hands were still shaking.   
Dan put a warm hand onto Phil’s shoulder, where Phil stiffened slightly. “Let’s get you to the main tent,” Dan said gently. “Everything will soon make sense.”  
Phil was directed, or pushed, across the hard-packed dirt field toward the nearest cluster of tents. In passing, he dared a brief, painful glance at one of the many shimmering blocks that seemed to rise higher than the sky itself. He burned to ask. His mind was a hubbub of swirling questions, but he kept his mouth quiet.  
They entered the tent. Scattered people, of varying ethnicities and ages, were ambling about inside. One woman, a chiselled African beauty with stony eyes, looked up sharply when they pushed inside. In a flash she was at Phil’s neck with a blade. “Who’s this?” she growled at Will, eyes boring into Phil’s own. She was a head shorter. She was terrifying.  
“V, it’s okay. This is Phil.”  
She cocked her head, scrutinising. “I do not trust him.” Her words were clipped; harsh.  
Will laughed awkwardly. “I’m vouching for him, V. Come on.”  
V pressed the blade further against Phil’s neck for a single moment. Phil didn’t dare breathe. Then she pulled her arm back, in a lightning movement, and sheathed the blade. “We are about to have a meeting,” she called as she turned her back and walked over to a table. Something strange twisted her words, unlike Phil had ever heard before. She didn’t speak as they did, and Phil burned to understand why.  
“I wanted to fill the new guy in first, if you don’t mind,” Will said. Phil’s head snapped around to stare at him in shock.   
“Me?” he burst out, brow so deeply furrowed it felt it would remain there.   
“Yeah – you’re the newest recruit. Did Dan not tell you that?” Will frowned, shooting an angry look at a sheepish Dan.   
“I didn’t feel like it was safe to tell him?” Dan said, blushing deeply. He played with his hands awkwardly. “Um, Mn-Chstr was monitoring him, and-“  
“Bullshit,” Will rolled his eyes. “Well, Phil, have a seat. Let’s talk.”  
Phil, who had needed to sit down – and have a cup of tea - the moment he had seen Dan again, gratefully took a seat. His legs shook underneath the table. All of the other patrons in the tent sat down in dribbles around him. He regarded their faces; tired and weathered remained constant across the varying features. One woman had a disfiguring scar splitting her face. She saw him looking and narrowed her eyes. Phil swallowed and looked quickly down at his hands.  
Dan sat on Phil’s left, giving him a guilty smile. It seemed to say, “I’m sorry about this.” Which wasn’t much of anything at all. Phil stared at Dan, a battle of incredible conflict rising in his chest.   
Will stood at the head of the table. “Alright, everyone. We have a new man in our midst; Phil Lester. Phil, this is the Manchester operative.” Will indicated around the tent, meaning the entire organisation. “Ask those questions, go on. I’m sure you have millions.”  
The heads turned to watch Phil. The spotlight over his head made him sweat nervously. “Is there, um, a pamphlet I could read? That explains everything?”  
The table gave smatterings of laughter. Will gave a half-smile. “I’m your pamphlet. Okay, let’s start off with a history lesson. Dan, tell Phil about the beginning.”  
Phil turned to look at Dan. Dan gave him a small smile, before launching into, “Several hundred years ago, when the world still ran on the BC/AD timetable, everything was different. Primitive technology, jarring perspectives, wars… everything was wild. There was a big war, over weaponry, currency, and control. In history this was known as World War IV, although we’ve lost records of the other World Wars. And when it was over, an agreement was made. A union, between all the governments in the world, was formed. A regime was made. It was decided the world would be run by a singular entity, split off into smaller branches until every country, every city, every town and every human was capitalised.”  
Phil couldn’t comprehend the words as truth; in his mind he saw the war, seeing the death and the fear, when the faceless union rose up above them all with a large hand.   
“Mn-Chstr,” Dan continued, “isn’t even the overarching government. They’re just one small part of them. But we have evidence,” Dan glanced at V, “that indicates they’ve isolated themselves from the others, so as to have a more absolute control.”  
“Evidence?” Phil asked, leaning forward.  
“V went out, years ago, across the Manchester lands on an expedition. It took months on foot. She reached a body of water. On the very brim of the horizon she saw land. Taking a leap of faith, she swam across. Another world was there; a softer one. She stayed there for a long time – and, well, she tells it better than I do.”  
Phil looked at V in wonder, trying to imagine her strong arms thrashing through a long expanse of water. It wasn’t difficult.   
V tapped the table. “The area was F89, but the cities it contained had very different names. Calais, Amiens, Paris. And the buildings,” she sighed. “Such beauty. The people-“ her eyes flashed darkly. “Spoke a language unlike we have ever heard. I picked it up a bit, but local dialects shifted in every town I travelled to. Their biggest city, Paris…” her eyes softened slightly, a hint of warmth breaking through the steel. “Magnificent. New England has no compare.”  
Her words trailed off, and Phil could almost see the flashbacks reflecting in her eyes. She cleared her throat. “I spoke to the people there. They had heard rumours of the New England lands, but had no deeper knowledge of it. The Union had excluded it entirely. No one knows why.”   
Phil sat back in his chair as her words stopped abruptly. He pushed a damp hand through his hair. “So…” he uttered. “What- what’s this place then? Manchester? Not like Mn-Chstr, um, obviously,” he struggled, glancing at Dan for help. Surely he should be more eloquent; the expectant faces staring at him unnerved him.  
“Well,” Will cut in. “At first, this was just a meet-up point, for the alternative people. One of the portal technicians discovered the inbetween spaces. Shannon Lombardt. She was part of the Resistance, those who met in secret to live against the enforced. She constructed a safe way to enter the spaces between.”  
“But now,” a man cut in, his dark skin mottled with cuts, “the machine that controls the portal states, what lets us in and out, is breaking. It works sporadically, and we fear we may become stuck. Worst case, we become exposed.”  
“Thank you, Amir,” V nodded. “What we need of you, Mr Lester, is to find this man-” She slid a packet of information over to Phil, “-and befriend him. We need his help.”  
“Why me?” Phil asked. He looked down at the packet. He had never seen loose pages before; only books were printed, and even those were for the nostalgic. He longed to run his fingers over the crisp fibres.  
“This is why Dan recruited you,” Will said with raised eyebrows.  
“About that,” Phil said slowly, turning to Dan. “What does that mean?” Dan didn’t answer.  
“Dan had to recruit someone trustworthy,” Will explained. “As part of his mission. You work in the BBC building. This man,” he prodded the packet, “Works there too. Hence, your mission.”  
“I… uh…” Phil stuttered helplessly.   
“So you understand what is expected of you, then?” Will asks, leaning forward over the table.   
“I think I need to digest this first, a bit,” Phil gulps in a puff of air. “I-” his words disintegrated into the air.  
“I do not think that he is a good choice for Manchester,” V growled, arm reaching toward her belt. Ominously.  
“No, please!” Dan cried out, an arm shooting to cover Phil’s chest. Phil glanced down at the tanned arm there. “I’ll talk to him. He’s fine, I promise. None of that’s necessary,” Dan babbled, pulling Phil’s numb body from the seat. As Phil was stumblingly dragged outside, he saw Will’s crumpled face before the green flaps of the tent obscured all light.  
His head tilted backward, lolling as Dan led him away from the tent. “Look, Dan. The stars,” he burbled.  
Dan lowered Phil to the dusty ground and collapsed next to him. “Stars?” he asked, shooting his dark eyes upward. “Shit, yeah. I’ve never looked at them from the Inbetween. They’re so vivid.” He glanced at Phil, who was entirely entranced by the misty mystery that wrapped around the Earth.   
“Stars don’t look like that back at home,” he whispered.  
Dan’s lips softened into a smile. “Home isn’t too far away.” Dan’s eyes flickered toward the shimmering blocks scattered across the landscape.  
“I don’t have a home,” Phil said absently, tipping backward to lie in the dust.  
“Yeah, you do,” Dan said with a half-grin. “Right here.” The with me implied was louder than the distant cries behind Phil’s eyes.  
“No. It’s not,” Phil said sharply. The smirk fell from Dan’s face. He opened his mouth, as if to query Phil’s words, before gritting his teeth together. As if holding himself together.  
Phil pushed the tips of his fingers deeply into his closed eyes, until his body screamed for him to stop. “Why didn’t you tell me you were just recruiting me? Why did you have to lie about that?”  
“What was I supposed to say? You could have had me arrested!” Dan burst out. Phil shot upright, anger burning across his face.   
“For God’s sake, Dan, do you realise how this feels? I thought out meeting was special, turns out it was orchestrated, that you had been tasked to recruit me-”  
“I wasn’t made to recruit you, Phil,” Dan cut in. “Just… someone. To show I was trustworthy, okay?”  
“And you chose me?” Phil asked incredulously. “What, some guy you see in a park after fleeing your wedding. Unless-” he eyed Dan. “Unless that was a lie to get me to trust you.”  
Dan laughed bitterly. “No. Francesca’s real. I’m not some crook, Phil. I really did run from my wedding, and get a very expensive tuxedo dirty. And I saw you.”  
“And you decided then and there that I was Manchester ready?” Phil said sarcastically.   
“No!” Dan insisted. “All I saw was a man on a swing, looking as if he were trying to leave the world behind. With a world of troubles on his face. And I saw myself. And I knew that it had to be you.”  
Phil held his boiling words back. Hints of warmth began to pepper his chest. He shook his head slightly. “What about the kisses?” he asked angrily. “Were they lies? To get me to trust you? Listen to you? By making me-” He hesitated.  
“What?” Dan asked, raising an eyebrow.  
“Making me like you,” Phil bit out. A tidal pool of warmth rose to his cheeks.  
“No,” Dan mumbled, protesting. His cheeks seemed a darker tint, although it was hard to tell without any light. “That wasn’t – that wasn’t supposed to happen.”  
“Oh.” It was quiet for a while. Phil breathed deeply until his heart slowed in time.   
“So, you like me?” Dan asked, his face turned down so that Phil could count every eyelash. A hot terror unlike Phil had ever experienced rolled from the top of his head to the soles of his feet, leaving his fingers tingling.   
Lips dry and eyes searching for anything that wasn’t Dan, Phil murmured, “Um. Yeah. Kinda.” The pregnant silence between them bubbled.  
A hand tentatively touched his shoulder, hot enough to burn through Phil’s plaid shirt. Phil looked up, cheeks burning as he met Dan’s stare. Dan was smiling softly. “Your eyes are the moon,” he whispered, before leaning in. His lips brushed so gently over Phil’s they might have been the fluttering breeze instead. Phil breathed in, the intoxicating smell of Dan Dan Dan clutching his heart. Something, an unknown but not unwelcome something, rumbled in his chest.   
He had so much to say to this boy, but no words – no cacophony of thesauruses – could convey the world in a moment. Nothing but…  
Phil pulled Dan in, eyes sliding shut as their lips met, finally, properly, without surprise or denial or desperation.  
It was just a kiss between two lovers beneath the stars, an eternal moment between countless lovers underneath the exact same sky. But the Universe stopped for these two; the Earth stopped mid-rotation, the wind halted amongst the highest mountain tops and a butterfly froze atop a fragrant flower, turning its fuzzy head.  
Dan kissed Phil, and Phil kissed Dan, and the heavens sang to see such beauty.  
Dan broke away, chest heaving, and rested his forehead against Phil’s. “Do this with us – with me,” he whispered. The words, melted chocolate, calmed Phil.  
“Okay.”

When they re-entered the tent, the heads whirled around to stare at them. “Well?” V asked. Her eyes terrified Phil more than the weapons strapped to her.  
“I’m joining the Manchester operative,” Phil said. “I’m joining the Resistance.”  
The faces remained stoic except for Will’s. His beaming grin lit up the tent. “That’s great, Phil,” he said as he rose from the table. “Listen, I’m sure you have to get home, you don’t want to arouse suspicion-“  
Phil’s eyes widened. “Angela,” he groaned. It was dark already – she’d have dinner finished by now.   
“Your wife?” Will asked, shooting Dan an indecipherable glance.   
“Yeah, he-“ Dan cut in.  
“There is no time for this!” V snarled, scraping her chair back. “Lester, be here tomorrow. Same time. We have planning to do.”  
Phil nodded abruptly, the hollow feeling low in the pit of his stomach gnawing at him. Angela. “How do I leave? You said there was a problem with the portal-” he glanced at Amir.  
“Dan can take you home,” Will interrupted. “Go, now. Be wary of Mn-Chstr.”  
A chill scratched down Phil’s spine at the thought. “Let’s go, Phil,” Dan said lowly, gripping Phil’s arm. They walked out of the tent, crossing the rocky plain toward the crumbling building they had come from. Phil’s eyes were once again drawn to the bafflingly huge shimmering blocks. “So.. are those…?” he asked Dan.  
“That’s the world above, yeah. Scary, isn’t it?” Dan said. “Just chunks of existence lifted out onto another dimension.”  
Phil didn’t want to think about it. Inside the building, nestled into the darkness, was a shining plate. Phil looked up to see a portal on the ceiling directly above. “Are you sure it’s completely safe?” he asked Dan nervously.   
“No,” Dan admitted. “That’s why your mission is so important. But for now, we hope that it doesn’t glitch mid-jump.”  
“Your words are very reassuring,” Phil said sarcastically.  
“I’m sending you to the park. Your tablet device is still in the park. Never return there again. Wait for me after work tomorrow, I’ll take you down again. And Phil-” Dan smiled softly. “I can’t wait.”  
Their lips met – a whirling promise of future meetings – and for a brief moment Phil wasn’t filled with terror. When they broke apart, they shared a lingering glance before Dan activated the same black device as before and the portal flashed bright orange. “Bye, Dan,” Phil said as he stepped onto the plate. His world spun upside down and the last image burned to his brain was Dan’s eyes. 

Having travelled back from the park, tablet secured to his wrist, Phil stood on the front step of his house. The portal blinking behind him was now ominous, as opposed to reassuring. Knowing the truth was like removing a filter; everything was so raw and real. Terrifying.  
He knew how late it was, and thought hard to find some excuse explaining his absence.  
Phil opened the door and crept inside. The lights were on. “Ang?” he called tentatively. No response. He walked into the living room, his stomach refusing to settle.   
The dining room had dinner laid out on it – stone cold. Phil felt awful, until his eyes settled on his wife asleep on the sofa. Then he felt absolutely terrible.  
“Angela,” he whispered as he bent over her. Her eyelashes fluttered and she screwed up her nose.   
“Phil?” she yawned. “What time is it?”  
“It’s late, I’m sorry,” he apologised, placing a hand on her hair. He looked at this sleepy woman, and wondered how to tell her he wanted to apply for a divorce. It was unusual, but it had happened.  
“Where were you? I made dinner,” she frowned. She sat up slowly and rubbed her eyes.   
“I went out with some work friends. I didn’t see the time. I’m really sorry, Angela.” Thoughts of Dan trembled in his mind; the guilt still lingered.  
“Call me next time,” she sighed. “But anyway-” her eyes lit up. “I have amazing news!”  
Phil raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”  
“Yeah,” she said excitedly. “Mn-Chstr contacted me – my medical records read that I’m pregnant!”  
Cymbals crashed above Phil’s head. His eyes swum red and his body went numb.  
“Isn’t that great, honey? You’re going to be a daddy!”  
Brown eyes.   
“That’s-”  
Soft lips.  
“Wonderful.”  
Dan.


	6. Platform

Chapter 6 - Platform

The bottle sparkled. The light of the moon through the curtains made dancing patterns like Phil had never seen. His head swum with everything beautiful; nothing concerned him but the growing swirl in his belly. Tentative fingers reached out to trace the glass. He poured more. Deep ruby splashed onto the table top. He giggled, wiping a finger to catch the droplets and sucking the juices off. With mock contempt he stared at the kitchen door. In his mind’s eye he saw her; lying with a hand over her swelling belly. He could not dare to hate it – but he could loathe its vessel.  
He drank deeply, swallowing until the last droplet slid into his thirsty throat. He couldn’t hate her. She was his. His best friend. His home.  
Except not really, not anymore. Not with those filmy blue eyes, sickeningly blank with the lies of the government.  
He poured again, tipping the bottle until even the air ran out. Another gulp. Another swirl of placation in his belly.  
He thought of things he didn’t want to feel. Brown eyes. Warmth. Beauty. Passion.  
His lip curled back. He could never be with Dan. The truth hit him now, over and over until his head hit the table. That scrap of happiness, that minute possibility, was gone. Deflated, he rose shakily from his chair. The empty bottles were scooped into the waste bin. Phil staggered toward the door. 

The white walls of the BBC encircled Phil as he worked. His body fixed on autopilot as he edited footage, clicking and clicking until his eyes dried out. His fingers couldn’t even tingle, the typing numbing too harshly. If a thought other than white walls or crappy footage entered his mind he would blink frantically and focus harder. The world blurred until the luminescent screen burned into his vision so that even closing his eyes would not diminish it.  
If the clock could tick, Phil would scratch his ears until blood stained the floor.  
He worked until his iHolo shut off and the room announced that it was time for Phil Lester to go home. His ears deemed a subtle malice in the words; an underlying threat.  
The blue portal light flashed around Phil and for a second he longed again for that eternal womb. Instead the urgent voice in his ear made him step off the plate and back into reality. He glanced back at the portal now, and his eyes gleamed as the possibilities that each portal guarded paraded through his mind. He headed out of the building and toward the row of portals to head home to his wife when a dark figure entered his vision. Dan had been leaning against the building wall, awaiting Phil’s arrival.  
“Church Hill Library,” he hissed at Phil as he marched toward a portal, quickly dissolving into light and air. Phil stood agast, wondering where he should go. The thought of being alone with Dan when Phil knew he shouldn’t be loomed greatly over his dark head.  
V would find him and castrate him if he didn’t come back to the Inbetween.  
Church Hill Library was a gorgeous building, with blossoming statues and a riveting water feature. Phil looked around to see the deserted patio steps. He supposed reading wasn’t such a hot commodity anymore, especially when it could be downloaded to your tablet in the blink of an eye.  
Dan emerged from behind a white pillar with a grin on his face. “I used to come here all the time when I was little,” he admitted. Phil swallowed roughly.  
“It’s very quaint,” he said softly. “Are you sure it’s safe to transition here?” Phil glanced warily around, half expecting a Mn-Chstr representative to burst from the doorway.  
“It’s fine,” Dan promised. “This is an acknowledged safe spot.” He pulled the odd device from the satchel slung over one shoulder and fiddled with it. “Let’s hope the portal won’t fuck up and suspend us in limbo,” he joked.  
“Thanks for that,” Phil grumbled. He found he could not look Dan in the eye. “Don’t we have to jump in from the top?” he asked as Dan fiddled with the device.  
“Nah, it was just a bit of dramatics,” Dan snorted, giving a crooked grin. “Really, we just walk into the orange light and then we’re set.”  
“Will it still feel like I’m falling through space and time?”  
“Oh, yeah.”  
They landed with a jarring “Oof”, but Phil managed not to fall on his face the second time around. He surveyed the stretching plains ahead, littered with tents and the unimaginable towers. “I forgot to ask, what about the other tents?” Phil asked as they walked out of the crumbling building.  
“Those are for the people who live in the Inbetween,” Dan said with a sad smile.  
“People live here?” Phil gasped. “But why?”  
“To rebel against Mn-Chstr,” Dan sighed. “The government started tracing some of them, so they decide it’s better to disappear altogether. There are some horrible stories to be found here.”  
Phil stared at the dingy tents, picturing a scarred face and a harrowing tale in each one. “It’s terrible,” he whispered.  
“Hm,” Dan conceded. “Will actually lives down here as well. V too, and a couple of the others you’ve met. That’s why they need people like us,” he said, shooting Phil a glance. “To do all the work upstairs.”  
Phil thought about that for a second, before grabbing Dan’s arm and stopping him mid-stride. “How did you get involved in this?” he asked, eyes searching Dan’s youthful face for a deeper meaning.  
“Just lucky, I guess,” Dan said with an upside-down smile. “Well, no. Not really. Um.”  
Phil was about to press him for details when Will’s head popped out of the tent just metres away. “Dan! Phil! Meeting’s about to start!”  
Phil gave Dan a quick grin before scuttling inside.  
V was waiting impatiently for them. She held the packet of information containing Phil’s mission in a balled fist. “Thank you for joining us,” she clipped. “Lester, read this.” She thrust the papers into his hands. “I expect there to be no questions afterward. Alright, let us start the meeting.”  
The group, which Phil had determined were the leaders of the operation, began to discuss things Phil had never heard of. He tried to focus on the words he was reading as they gestured to various maps and spoke in lowered tones. The words bled in his mind’s eye until a tear prickled there. He noticed Will glance his way so he blinked frantically and stared harder at the page.  
The guy’s name was Charles O’Dowd. He had a husband called Nicholas Merriweather and together they had been assigned a little girl called Allison. He was an engineer at the BBC. Charles looked happy to Phil, happy with his job and life. He couldn’t conceive being able to convince this man to rebel against a government that provided so well for him and his family.  
When the meeting had finished, and Phil had hyped himself so far into tension that he was quaking, V turned to appraise Phil. “Lester,” she said with a wry grin. “No questions?”  
He nodded quickly, despite the buzzing words trapped under his tongue.  
“Dismissed,” she called. The five or so ringleaders rose from their seats and filed out into the night.  
Dan pulled Phil away from the others with a knowing glimmer in his eyes. Phil kept thinking, “You have to tell him. You have to tell him.” The words couldn’t rise past the block in his throat. Dan looked so beautiful tonight, with his hair left curly and his cheeks rosy.  
The two stood, breathing heavily in unison, away from the lantern lights illuminating the far-off tents. “So,” Phil tried, acutely aware that Dan was inching closer and trying to delay the inevitable. “What’s your next mission? I didn’t quite hear.”  
“Oh,” Dan said, halting his movements. “I have to learn about radio broadcasting from my job, because we want to set up a covert station for the Rebels. I’m thinking of using my job as a way of resistance, try to get people to think differently, you know?”  
“That sounds dangerous,” Phil said with a grimace.  
“It is,” Dan admitted.  
“Can you tell me how you got here?” Phil asked, as Dan began to lean in again. Dan narrowed his eyes. “I’m just curious,” Phil said defensively.  
“Alright, fine.” Dan said, rolling his eyes. “About a year ago I woke up to hear noises in the house. I wasn’t frightened, at first, because we had set our portal to private. But the noises continued and I began to get frightened. So I snuck out of my room and crept downstairs to where the noises were coming. I saw this dark-headed guy I had never seen before so I attacked him. He took me down so easily – I didn’t stand a chance. I was lying there, gasping, and this guy was staring down at me. It got kind of weird. Then he helped me up and asked me not to scream for help. Then he told me who he was.”  
“Who was it?” Phil asked, enthralled.  
“Will,” Dan said.  
Phil’s eyes widened. “What was he doing in your house?” he asked, furrowing his brow.  
“I’m not too sure,” Dan confessed. “Something Resistance related, I gather. Anyway, he whispered all these things to me, things that I had thought about for years… about being your own person and not blindly following the government and I agreed with everything he was saying. He promised to fetch me the next night to show me the Inbetween, as long as I promised to never tell anyone about it. V wasn’t happy about it, but she allowed it. I was trained a bit, in combat and such. They’ll probably train you too. Only when I turned eighteen did they start giving me missions, small ones. Now that I’ve recruited you,” Dan smiled, “And have an actual use in the BBC, I’m finally getting to do something amazing. I’m finally getting to help.”  
His dimpled smile wrenched all of Phil’s feelings to the front again and he couldn’t help but kiss Dan. Their lips’ movement and their happy sighs were all that could be heard for a while.  
When Phil broke away with swollen lips, he took Dan’s face in his hands. “Dan,” he exhaled.  
“Yeah?”  
“Angela’s pregnant.”  
An orchestra of emotion played across Dan’s face. “You’re still sleeping with Angela?” he asked in a small voice. Phil dropped his hands in exasperation.  
“For God’s sake, Dan, of course I am. How suspicious would it be if I didn’t? Are you honestly telling me you haven’t slept with your wife yet?”  
Dan’s face said enough.  
“That’s not what matters, Dan, can’t you see that?” Phil cried. “Yesterday, it was easy to forget about Angela and fall into this Resistance. Now there’s a baby. There’s a tiny human who I’m responsible for, and it changes everything!”  
“What does it change?” Dan pressed.  
“Us!” Phil snarled.  
Dan flinched, his eyes screwing as he tried to calm down. “No,” he said lowly. “Not again.”  
“Huh?” Phil asked.  
“We are not going through this crap again. I have had enough of not getting what I want. I want you-” his eyes snapped open, “-and I will have you. Fuck it, Phil. You know we should be together. You can feel it, I know you can.”  
“I- I can’t leave Angela!”  
“And? You can’t rebel against the government either!”  
Phil bit his lip as he studied the ground. The heat emanating from Dan’s tensed body wrapped around him, fogging his mind and his judgement. “I’m not leaving Angela,” he said at last. Dan opened his mouth to speak, before Phil held up a hand.  
“You’re not leaving Francesca,” Phil said firmly.  
“It’s Chessie,” Dan mumbled.  
“Chessie, then,” Phil allowed, unsure why this admonition of a nickname bothered him. “We are going to continue living our lives as normal. At least when we’re up there.”  
Dan’s eyes brightened.  
“We’re already rebelling down here,” Phil whispered, leaning closer to Dan. “It can’t hurt to rebel just a little bit more.”  
Dan couldn’t stop smiling as they kissed.

The next day at work went slowly as always. When the hour Phil received as break arrived, instead of eating at his desk like he always did, he took the portal to the lunch room. He hadn’t come in here often since working for the BBC, as he was always intimidated by the crowds of people. Although many still remained absorbed by their tablet screens, there were those that chose to band together and talk. The idea of trying to find a clique to sit with terrified Phil to no end.  
He scanned the room surreptitiously. He began to walk through the room, trying to look as if he wasn’t searching for someone specific. The bag of food he held in his hand became heavier and heavier. He reached the other end of the room with no success. Disheartened, he took a seat at a table away from the others.  
“I can’t do this,” he thought to himself. “I’ll never be able to do this stupid mission.”  
He ate his food slowly, keeping his eyes on his knees.  
“Do you mind if I sit with you?” a shy voice asked. Phil glanced up, prepared to politely nod and move aside when he froze. It was Charles, the engineer. He wore thick glasses and had a lovely smile.  
“Yeah, no, go ahead,” Phil said, indicating the seat opposite him.  
“I usually sit alone,” Charles said as he slid onto the bench. “It was nice to see someone else at the table of solitude, as I like to call it.”  
Phil laughed. Charles had a slight stutter but it did not affect his charm. “I’m Phil,” he introduced himself.  
“Charlie, Charlie O’Dowd,” he said with a grin.  
“It’s great to meet you, Charlie,” Phil said, a tiny bubble of glee forming in his chest.  
It seemed things were finally starting to fall into place in Phil’s life, he thought privately to himself as he laughed at a genuinely funny joke Charlie made. Except, of course, for the baby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM ALMOST DONE WITH EXAMS AND THEN I WILL UPDATE REGULARLY AGAIN. THANK YOU FOR BEING TOTAL HONEYS. <3


	7. Table

Time passed; dull days with the same-same of years passing over Phil’s body with little to comfort him. Even the thought of the Rebellion, even Dan, couldn’t comfort Phil’s restless mind. Each passing day became routine, with the vibrant flashes of life floundering into stale boredom.  
Now, amongst swirling thoughts of the past and future, he stood on the front step of his house. Waiting, waiting for a release from his turmoil. As well as for Angela to come downstairs.  
Phil eyed the portal he had grown so apprehensive of. It blinked innocently in the moonlight. Thoughts of the disintegrating machine in the Inbetween plagued him – time was running out.  
As he waited, his mind turned to the months that had rolled past.  
Phil had become an expert at the art of smiling. Lifting up the corners, baring his white teeth, chuckling as he commented on something he did not care for. It was somewhat necessary with all the lying he had to do.  
Phil smiled as the days swelled Angela’s belly, as he watched her eat and grow and laugh.  
She seemed so happy, so content with her life that Phil wondered if she was even in the same dimension as him. He mused that perhaps his brain had lifted out of the world and only his robot body remained behind, performing the task of Husband as it knew so well to do. Dull work.  
Phil smiled as he ate lunch with Charlie each day.  
He laughed and chatted and gossiped with his bespectacled friend. There was something in those eyes that made Phil trust him implicitly; something in his laugh that comforted Phil as he realised that this was becoming more than just a mission. Charlie was a good man, and from beyond his rising depression Phil could acknowledge that he’d made a true friend.  
Phil smiled when he was with Dan.  
Smiling in those stolen moments between up and down, where they were just them and their words were just kisses. It became a comfort to Phil; a warm hug on a cold day. He knew that after a day of smiling at Angela, smiling at Charlie, smiling until his face ached, he could simply smile into Dan’s mouth. It was enough, for now.  
One evening seemed a burst of colour in comparison with the rest of the grey. Cold fingers and gasps and sweat and curling, agonising joy.  
Phil smiled at the memory.  
Then the ever lingering thought of the Rebellion wiped the smile from his cheeks. He had to ask Charlie. Tonight. The idea had cemented into his brain as fact.  
He glanced down at his tablet. The sleek device on his wrist seemed to mock him. Phil was slowly becoming sure that Mn-Chstr was monitoring him. The creeping fingers of paranoia slid cold shivers down his back as he thought about it.  
Charlie’s words from days before now hounded him.  
Deeper now, deeper into the time passing from that crucial first meeting, Phil is sitting at the Table of Solitude with Charlie, holding a lump in his throat. It feels right, about now, to ask Charlie to come over. The plan bubbling nervously in Phil’s throat is to tell him about the Inbetween away from the BBC’s prying eyes and ears.  
Phil plays it coolly, hyper aware that Mn-Chstr could be recording any suspicious activity.  
“I’m thinking we should do a dinner party sometime,” Phil said with a smile. His pulse throbbed at the base of his throat, and he thought of the device around his wrist recording his anxiety. He swallowed.  
“That sounds great,” Charlie said, his bright blue eyes glimmering with his eternal excitement. “Yeah, take our respective spouses to the unlucky host’s house. We can talk and drink and eat.”  
“My favourite things to do,” Phil joked as his pulse slowed. The plan seemed to wink at him in his mind.  
“Oh!” A slow grin formed on Charlie’s lips. “You should invite your other friend too.”  
“Other friend?” Phil asked, mentally running through the very short list of people he associated with.  
“Mm,” Charlie said through a mouthful of lunch. “That dark-headed guy you always meet with after work.”  
Phil’s pulse shot through the roof. Every orifice began sweating.  
“I- I don’t know who you’re talking about,” Phil said, clearing his throat to attempt to dislodge the lump there. He thought they had been discreet, when all along it was obvious that those who bothered to raise their eyes away from their tablets long enough could see it.  
“Of course you do, Phil,” Charlie said, rolling his eyes. “He’s kind of tall, and quite young, honestly. You always chat with him for a bit and then you’re off home.”  
“Oh, yeah,” Phil said, drawing out his words. He thought frantically. “Yeah, that’s Dan. I wouldn’t really say we were friends-” his mind flashed to the image of moving bodies in the moonlight, “-but yeah. He’s good to talk to.”  
“Dan Howell, yeah?” Charlie asked, dipping a spoon into a cup of yoghurt. “The radio presenter?”  
“That’s him,” Phil said. The panic was settling slightly. “I liked his show, so I thought I’d say hey. I guess a kind of a friendship sprang up from that. Do you want to invite him to the dinner, then?”  
“I like his show too, he’s funny,” Charlie admitted. “It could be fun to have him and I presume his wife there. Make it a big deal. A party.”  
Phil thought of Francesca, or Chessie, Dan’s mysterious wife. He still hadn’t met her, and he wasn’t particularly keen to. Dan refused to talk about her whenever Phil mentioned her, so he had gradually dropped the subject.  
“Yeah okay, let’s do that,” Phil said.  
If Charlie could notice a connection between Dan and Phil, anyone could. Anyone. They had to be more careful.  
He activated the tablet and frowned at the numbers displayed on the screen. “Angela!” he called into the house.  
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” she shouted as she descended, belly-first, from the dark stairway. “Mr. Baby just had an absolute fit upstairs,” she huffed, already out of breath.  
“Kicking?” Phil asked. His gaze could not move from her bulging stomach.  
“Yeah. He’s going bloody bonkers,” she said with a fond grin. Her soft hands yanked Phil’s own and pressed them just underneath her belly button. “God, feel that.”  
Tiny kicks fluttered under Phil’s warm palm. He swallowed thickly. “It’s going to be a strong thing,” he breathed.  
“Don’t call our baby ‘it’, Phil, please,” Angela muttered lowly. “He’s a tiny human, with a tiny, bright life. Not a blooming bucket.”  
When Angela wasn’t looking, Phil rolled his eyes up to the stars.  
“We don’t know it’s a boy yet. Considering you refuse to take a scan,” Phil said, pulling his hands away from the belly that made his heart constrict in weird ways.  
“I like the mystery of it all,” Angela smiled, rubbing her hand over the bump with a loving touch. “Besides, I know it’s a boy.”  
“We’ll see. We’re almost late,” he said, straightening his collar. “Can we just go?”  
“God. Yeah. It’ll be nice to meet these friends you go out with all the time. Leaving your pregnant wife home alone, staring wistfully at a bottle of wine.” Angela fixed Phil with a steely glare. “Maybe I’ll start drinking just to force you home on time.”  
Phil chose to say nothing, choking back nausea as he entered Dan’s co-ordinates into the panel, but didn’t miss Angela’s brow rumple. The portal flashed. Dan’s house was, predictably, black and white. Phil stared up at the crisp white walls methodically dotted with cookie-cutter windows. The house was exactly like Phil’s own, only without the creeping vines and geraniums Angela so loved to plant.  
Apprehension swelled behind his Adam’s apple. Tonight.  
Everything important – everyone important – was going to congregate under one roof. The possibilities of the evening stretched in Phil’s mind, with each terrifying turn throbbing with likely failure.  
“Knock, then,” Angela hissed, a hand bunching the flowery material of her dress. Phil rapped his knuckles on the hard wood; once, twice. He regretted the decision to involve Dan in this at all.  
If only Charlie hadn’t seen them together. And if only Dan’s wife hadn’t agreed, and offered to host the party.  
The door swung open with a barrel of noise. “Hel-lo!” the girl sang. She had flyaway hair, cropped above her shoulders, a bottle-red Phil had only ever seen on TV. She was sharply dressed in clothes that flattered her curvy waist. The gold she’d lined her intelligent eyes with made the grey irises bright; fun.  
“You must be Phil and Angela, Dan’s esteemed ‘friends’,” she quipped as she ushered them inside. Angela seemed a bit dazed. “I’m Francesca, but dear God, please call me Chessie. My parents were smoking the highest class of drugs when they named me.”  
The house was still quite bare, but marks of personality were beginning to shine through. The lounge had been hastily tidied, and a bouquet of red and purple lilies had been fragrantly placed on the coffee table.  
“I’ll admit,” Chessie said with a wry grin as she pushed Phil down onto the sea green sofa, “I had no idea Dan even had any friends. He’s such a loner, isn’t he?”  
Phil looked around, finding no traces of the boy he was in love with.  
“H-have you been enjoying the marriage so far?” Angela asked, watching with wide eyes as Chessie scuttled back-and-forth out of the kitchen, bearing trays upon trays of snacks.  
“All prego-friendly, I assure you,” she winked at Angela. “The marriage is pretty great,” she said as she poured five flutes of champagne and a flute of sparkling apple juice. “I actually knew Dan. Before. Not that he remembered me, of course. Typical Dan. We went to the same preparatory, you see.” Plates were handed to Phil and Angela to hold the mounds of food. “Go ahead, eat. If Charlie and his partner knock, please open for them.”  
“Where are you going?” Phil asked, as Chessie was already halfway up the stairs.  
“Dan’s probably fussing with his hair, sorry,” she laughed over her shoulder. “I’ll just get him – reassure him that his shirt is black enough.” She disappeared.  
Phil watched apprehensively as Angela scooped something of everything onto her plate. The food itself was absolutely gorgeous. Things Phil had never seen were arranged in patterns amongst decorative flowers. The smell was divine, and according to the noises coming from Angela’s bulging mouth, the taste was just as amazing.  
Phil wanted nothing more than to throw up.  
As he sat there amidst silence, waiting for Dan, waiting for Charlie, and waiting for Angela to stop eating, his mind drifted.  
Dan had naturally not been keen on the idea of dinner. “Are you asking to be found out?” he had asked, a frown pulling at his brow. “Us, our wives and your mission objective in one room? Do you realise what an idiotic idea that sounds like?” The two were inside one of the many tents found in the Inbetween – the Rebels had realised the relationship between the two, and offered them a small tent to meet in. With blood red cheeks, they had discovered a mattress inside. Big enough for two.  
“Dan, please,” Phil said softly. They were lying, facing each other on the rather ratty mattress. “I really think this will turn things around for my mission. V is getting on my back for taking so long, and I don’t want to disappoint her. Will, and you, have put so much faith in me. I want to prove myself.”  
Dan sighed. He trailed his fingertips across Phil’s cheek, one finger tracing the soft rose lines of Phil’s lips. “I understand. I do,” he said, his breath ghosting over Phil’s ear. “I just don’t like it when you spend so much time with this guy. I don’t know, he’s just,” Dan shrugged, a restless look in his eye. “I just don’t like the look of him.”  
“I didn’t think you’d get jealous,” Phil said, a tiny triumphant smirk curling the corner of his mouth.  
Dan scoffed, but kept his eyes low. “I’m not jealous, I’m just-”  
Phil nuzzled their noses together. “My jealous little Dan.” He began to sketch invisible drawings up and down Dan’s warm back, touching softer until all the hairs on Dan’s body were raised. “Do you honestly think-” Phil whispered, pressing wet kisses down Dan’s neck before pushing Dan to lie underneath him, “-that anyone,” He licked a lazy trail down Dan’s torso. “Has a damn chance,” He paused, nosing a dark patch of hair, flicking his eyes up to see Dan’s flushed face, his dark eyes. “When they’re competing with you?” he breathed. Dan swallowed.  
“Um, yeah, you make some valid points there,” Dan’s voice hitched. “But, um, let’s move on to another subject, shall we? Something more, um, current?”  
The topic of Charlie O’Dowd was dropped.  
As Phil’s thoughts caused himself to flush crimson in the living room of the Howell family, a timid knock sounded on the door. “I’ll get it!” Chessie called as she bounded down the stairs. “I take my hosting responsibilities very seriously.”  
“I can see that,” Phil muttered, eyes on the food.  
The door was opened and Phil heard Chessie’s loud voice welcoming the newcomers into the home.  
“Hey, Charlie,” Phil smiled as the dark-headed man entered the room. “And, Nick, yeah?” Charlie was accompanied by a shorter blond man, whose grin was brighter than the room’s light. Chessie ushered them inside and then flashed away up the stairs again.  
“Yeah, I’m Nick. S’good to meet you, finally. I’ve heard so much,” Nick rolled his eyes at Charlie, “about you.”  
“All good, of course,” Charlie added with a wink.   
“Thank the Lord,” Phil laughed. Angela nudged him with an elbow. “Oh, didn’t mean to be rude, sorry,” he stood up. “This is Angela, my wife.”  
Pleasantries were exchanged. Just as everyone had a glass of bubbly held in one hand, two pairs of feet thundered down the stairs. “Sorry Dan was such an idiot,” Chessie laughed as she barreled into the living room. Dan slunk sheepishly behind her. Phil’s heart skipped a beat as he saw him; he was as beautiful as ever.   
“Dan,” Phil nodded. “This is Angela, and Charlie, and Nick.” He indicated to each as their name was spoken. Dan smiled in turn, but shared a look with Phil. A quick one, that would not cause suspect if anyone was to spot the shared gaze. Those brown eyes told all; of the apprehension of the plan, of the discomfort with Angela. Phil sat down.  
“Now that we’re finally all here,” Chessie said with a jab to Dan’s ribs, “we can feast!”  
The group moved to the dining room, and watched in amazement as Chessie brought plate after plate of perfectly cooked foods from the kitchen. The table began to creak slightly from all the weight. Phil glanced at Angela, who seemed entranced. She was subconciously stroking her belly with her long, pale fingers.  
“Do you work as a cook, Chessie?” Nick asked as he bit into a succulent piece of steak with Camembert sauce. Phil barely watched the exchange; his stomach had won over his obstinate dislike of Chessie and he was piling as much of everything onto his plate as possible.  
“I do, yeah,” Chessie smiled as she hovered by the table. She was, in essence, the perfect host, ready to bring anything if someone were to just ask. Phil suspected she’d scavenge for gold-capped flowers if the need arose.  
General chatter filled the room, along with forks scraping on plates, the sticky chewing of foods and the soft pattering of music coming from the living room. Amidst the revelry of a good evening, Phil met Dan’s eyes across the table. They were essentially alone; the others were not paying them any mind. “Chessie’s nice,” Phil murmured.  
“Angela too, I guess,” Dan’s expression was odd. Unreadable. “Tonight’s the night, yeah?”   
Phil nodded. A thicker kind of air seemed to wrap around them, unbeknownst to the table, that became filled with mystery; of the Rebellion, of love. Phil was reluctant to drop his eyes to his plate, but Charlie had glanced into their bubble and Phil was apprehensive toward discovery.  
Angela was clearly having a good time; she ate luxuriously, and had found a common interest with Nick – something about music, or television. Charlie was talking with Chessie, and then Dan joined in. Phil watched, the familiar sinking feeling of alienation dripping into his stomach. Until Angela’s hand crept onto his lap.  
Phil jerked, hitting his knee under the table.  
He turned his head to stare at Angela, who was still happily chatting with Nick. She seemed entirely innocent, as if the hand travelling to Phil’s inner thigh was not her own. Phil leaned closer and whispered into her ear, “What on earth are you doing?”  
Angela ignored him, clearly too absorbed in her conversation to remove her fingers from Phil’s crotch. Angrily, Phil brushed her hand away. She looked at him, then, with broken fragments of hurt in her eyes. Phil stabbed a head of asparagus forcefully. The chair beside him creaked as it was pushed back. “Beg pardon, guys, this little tyke is pressing on my bladder,” she said to the table. She marched off to the bathroom, and Phil knew she was angry.  
“I’ll be right back, guys,” he said and pushed off after her. Confusion played on all the faces, but Phil ignored them.  
“Angela,” he whispered, rapping his knuckles on the bathroom door.  
“I’m peeing, shove off.”  
Phil waited for the loo to flush and the tap to be turned off. The handle turned, and Angela’s accusatory eyes appeared through the crack in the door. “What do you want?” she said sulkily.  
“Don’t be mad at me,” Phil defended. “That was a very innapropriate thing you did just then. How could you think it was okay?”  
Angela’s lips crinkled up. With a yank Phil was inside of the bathroom and watching his wife lock the door with a click. He perched on the edge of the sink. “Really, Angela, what were you thinking?”  
“I don’t know what I was thinking!” she said miserably. “Looking for some kind of excitement, maybe. Bloody hell, Phil. You haven’t touched me since I fell pregnant!”  
Phil dithered for an answer, unable to find one besides, ‘I really fancy someone with a penis at the moment, and your pregnancy has really complicated matters, and frankly I’m just not attracted to you. Sorry, luv.’ He remained silent, instead.  
“Do I disgust you?” she asked, her lips turned downward and eyes filmy.  
“I- no,” Phil sputtered, tumbling forward to embrace her. “I’m just- I’ve been under a lot of pressure from work, and...” Excuses toppled from his mouth, each sounding weaker and weaker even to Phil’s own ears.  
“Just shut up, Phil. You’ve always made love like a corpse.” Angela gritted out. “Stop fucking lying. Something’s wrong, I know it, and it’s not me.”  
Phil’s eyes dropped low as Angela left the bathroom, her absence a torrid vacuum.   
A tiny red light flashed, for barely a split-second, on Phil’s tablet device. His stomach constricted, and barbs of prickly fear covered his entire body. With shaking fingers he inspected the watch strapped to his wrist. He hadn’t imagined the light, but he could only imagine what it meant.  
****************  
After dinner, which was several shades awkwarder than before, Dan pulled Phil into the kitchen. “You’ve been acting weird all dinner, Phil. What’s wrong? Nervous about Charlie? Because I’m sure that will be fine, he seems nice-”  
“It’s not that,” Phil cut in. “Look, I’ll tell you later, okay?” He wanted to say, ‘I can’t say anything here,’ only now each word that came from his mouth was analysed first. He knew now, for sure, that Mn-Chstr was watching him. How was he going to ask Charlie without alerting them? How long had Mn-Chstr been watching him? What did they know?  
“Calm down, Phil,” Dan whispered. “Look, just take Charlie-” Phil made shushing gestures, before indicating to his watch. Dan’s eyes widened. “Okay, just... Explain there. You know him well enough that it won’t be a problem. Okay?”   
“Meet me there,” Phil mouthed. Dan nodded.  
They returned to the lounge where everyone had a cup of tea and were discussing the likely outcomes of Dancing With the Stars. “Angela, Chessie, Nick? Are we good on tea? Should I brew some more?” Dan asked.  
“Babe, it’s okay, I’ll do it,” Chessie said, sitting up. Phil couldn’t control the spike of irritation at the use of the word ‘babe’.  
“No, it’s fine. You’ve been hard at work all day. Charlie, Phil, I could use a hand?” Dan said. Phil smirked; Dan was so clever sometimes. In the kitchen, the three set about the age old art of tea-making. They ignored the kitchen’s built in brewing capacities, because everything tasted better when made with a human hand.  
“Charlie,” Phil began, his focus fixed on tea leaves.  
“Mhm?”  
“Do you trust me?” he asked, looking up to meet Charlie’s eyes.   
“Yeah, of course I do. You’re my best friend.” Charlie’s smile was warm, but Dan’s was frozen. Uncomfortable. Scared.  
“Then... after Nick’s asleep, come to my place, okay? Don’t tell anyone.” Phil nibbled on his lip anxiously.  
“Yeah, sure. I assume you’ll tell me what it’s about later, right?” Charlie didn’t seem suspicious, at least not overly so in a negative way. Just curious. At Phil’s nod, and with a cocked eyebrow at Dan, he asked, “What are your co-ordinates? And are you coming along, Dan?” Dan nodded. The two were frightened to say any more, wary of listening ears. Instead, the tea was made and carted into the living room.  
**************  
The window outside was dark. The sheets covering Phil’s knees were cold, but his heart pumped fast enough to heat him up. He waited, waited for a sound... a tiny patter from downstairs alerted him; he slid out of bed, leaving the slumbering Angela in the cold bed. He looked back from the doorway, thinking, ‘I have to do something about her.’ More pressing matters called to him, and he tiptoed outside.  
Charlie waited on the doorstep, wrapped in a scarf and with expectant eyes behind his glasses. Phil held a finger to his lips, and carefully put in the park’s co-ordinates. In complete silence the two transitioned. Charlie watched with wide eyes as Phil activated one of the portals with the device. He prayed to himself that the machine wouldn’t disingetgrate then and there, as was his luck. It seemed to be working, so Phil pulled Charlie into the orange light. They landed on the compact ground, Phil now able to maintain his balance completely, but Charlie hit the ground hard.  
“Sorry, sorry,” Phil laughed. He helped Charlie up.   
“What is this place?” Charlie asked, his eyes flashing as he took in the vast grounds. He seemed awed by the shimmering blocks that ascended higher than the eye could see. Phil remembered how he’d felt, months ago, that very first time. The wonder and confusion and terror and awe.  
“This is the Inbetween, in the Manchester lands of old,” Phil explained. “Let me introduce you to V and the other leaders.”  
Charlie was barely able to contain his excitement as they walked toward a cluster of tents. “V!” Phil called out. Rustling came from one of the tents, and the woman emerged, dressed only in a vest and pants, holding her favourite dagger aloft. “What is it – oh,” she grinned, shark-like. “At last. Welcome, Charlie. Welcome to the Rebellion.”  
Charlie took it all in, his pupils ringed with white shock. “Um, Phil?” he asked, his voice wavering.  
“Come inside,” Phil said with a smile, opening the ringleader’s tent. “I’ll explain it all to you.”   
********************  
Charlie, struck dumb by the knowledge of the secret world amongst the one he had known to exist before, accepted the task of fixing the portal rather readily.   
“You’re sure you’re happy to do this?” a sleepy Will asked, scratching a hand over his stubbled chin. “It’s a dangerous job, and if you’re caught, Mn-Chstr won’t care that you’ve got a young daughter. If you’d rather not, we can arrange for a mind wipe, and you’ll wake up tomorrow in a warm bed with no idea of the Inbetween.”  
Charlie’s eyes flashed darkly. “I want to do this. It’s scary, but...”  
Amir, one of the ringleaders, fixed Charlie with a strong stare. “You’re doing us an unthinkable favour. We cannot thank you enough. If you have some time to spare, I’ll take you the machine now...?”  
“Yes, let’s go,” Charlie said, a professional tone overtaking his usually timid one. “I’ll see you later, Phil,” he nodded curtly.  
Phil watched him leave the tent, a huge wave of relief flooding his bones. Dan squeezed his hand under the table.  
“You have done well, Lester,” V said with a smirk. “Rebellion worthy.”  
“Indeed,” Will said with a wink.  
“Your training begins tomorrow. Prepare yourself, you won’t be getting much rest.” She stood up, placing her dark palms on the table. “The Resistance is rising. We must be ready.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I am finally done with exams! Now I am off on holiday for three weeks, which will mean plenty of writing done! The holiday internet may be dodgy but I will find ways to update.  
> Also, I’ll write a first time sex scene for those who want it, and post it on the side. Just say if you want the sex, and I shall provide the sex.  
> Thanks to all of you who waited a MONTH for this. I cherish each eye that reads the words I write.


	8. Hole

Chapter 8 - Hole

“Faster, Lester!” V shouted, lips twisted mid-shout, chunky boots thumping on the ground as she effortlessly jogged ahead of Phil. He gasped in desperate bursts, one hand clutching at his side.  
“Everything burns,” he wheezed. Short bubbles of air hiccuped from his lungs as he moved his aching limbs into something resembling a shuffle. The beaten dirt path inching past below his feet mocked him, strewn as it was with sharp pebbles and other insurmountable obstacles.  
“I do not care,” she growled. “You are to join the rest of the recruits in weapon training by next week and if you are not fit enough to keep up, you’re out. And you know what out means, no? Do you understand, Lester?”  
“I do, I do,” Phil pushed through cracked lips. “I’m trying-”  
“Hush! Focus on running,” she smirked. She kept up her easy jog next to him as he noisily ran the worn track around the tents. There was sun beating down on Phil; the balmy Saturday afternoon had turned hellish from the exercise. Driblets of sweat and possibly tears blinded Phil and he squinted up at the revolting sun with a twisted grimace.  
“Hey, Phil! How’s it going? You look well!” Dan called, cackling with laughter. He was seated by an beaten picnic table, looking over some papers with Will and a woman called Lilly whom Phil didn’t know very well.  
“Shut,” Phil groaned, sweat tearing jagged tracks through the dirt on his cheeks, “up.”  
“No talking!” V ordered, kicking the backs of Phil’s legs with sharp nips. “Only running.” A wave of laughter followed Phil as he stumbled past the strategising group. There was no such thing as comfort in life, he thought underneath a stinging headache, only pain. He ran on.

************

Phil took a deep slurp of tea, almost orgasming from the ripples of relaxation that spread through him as he sank onto his couch. He breathed quietly for a moment, letting his tired eyes droop shut. He focused on the peaceful in-and-out, in-and-out for a while. The absence of V’s commands left a ringing in his ears.  
“So, gym was quite the experience, then?” Angela said flatly from the armchair opposite Phil, scrolling on her tablet. Her eyes did not flicker from the white light bleaching her skin.  
Phil’s head lolled lazily over to look at her. “I am so unfit,” he declared. “The personal trainer I hired is so tough! I’m dying! I’m actually dying!”  
“It’s been two weeks, Phil,” Angela scoffed. “You’re being dramatic – it’s not as if you’re training for war.”  
“Yeah, well,” Phil mumbled, cheeks burning and heart pumping. “Still. Dying. Me. Dead. You’ll be a widow soon.”  
“Mm,” Angela hummed, one finger sliding across the tablet to turn a page.  
“How can you be so unsympathetic?,” he said, his voice going high in disbelief.  
“Oh, as if you can talk,” she scoffed. “I’ve been going to parental guidance classes alone! Do you know how hard it is to practise actually going into labour all alone? All these smug couples, and there I am. Telling myself to push. It’s ridiculous!”  
Phil flinched. “I don’t like those classes,” he defended himself, holding up the mug of tea. “They’re... weird. I don’t know. I don’t need to know how to deliver a baby! We have hospitals for a reason – so that I don’t have to deal with all the gunky blood.” A shiver rolled through his spine.  
“You’re more of a baby than the tiny human in my belly,” Angela mumbled, but a small smile formed over her pout. Phil looked at her over the rim of his mug. She was rounder now than ever, and her skin was positively glowing. Her hair was tied into its usual braid, and it curled over her shoulder now in a waterfall of hair. Her blue-blue eyes were lowered as she focused on her tablet; her cheeks twitched as she smiled to herself.  
A bubble of something, Phil didn’t know what, rose in his chest as he looked at her. They’d known each other for... eight years now. Eight years of companionship; they’d been married for six of those. Six years of marriage. It was a lifetime.  
He’d barely known Dan for eight months. The contrast was disgustingly simple. Eight years of colours rising and falling in a crescendo of monotony, and eight months of madness. Lust. Love.  
There was no comparison – Phil loved Dan more than life, and yet, he loved her too. Not in the same way, not in the way of choking pleasure and electrifying love. But he loved her, and he thought he’d love the baby too, when it became more than just an intangible concept to him.  
“Angela,” he began to say. “I have to tell you some-”  
His tablet began to buzz maniacally. He opened it immediately, terror rising in his throat as the message from Charlie said. “Down. Now.”  
“I have to go, I’m sorry,” he said in a panic, the mug slipping from his hand with an allmighty crash as he sprang from the couch.  
“Where are you going?” Angela asked, a stricken look in her eye. An automatic hand jumped to her belly as she stared after him wide-eyed. He grabbed his backpack from the hook with shaking fingers.  
“I can’t tell you, Ang, I’m sorry,” he apologised as he ran out the door. The portal taking him to the safe library was instantaneous but seemed eternal. He pulled the portal device from the depths of his backpack and fiddled with it, struggling to activate it in his fear. The portal turned orange and Phil was already jumping, skidding past this dimension into the one below. Thoughts of Mn-Chstr’s eyes everywhere did not concern him; the infernal tumbling of white hot panic spreading through his fingertips surpassed all else.  
A cloud of dust exploded beneath his feet as he landed in the Inbetween. It wasn’t the usual absent plane – a group of forty, maybe fifty people were gathering, vibrating with the panic of an unsure crowd. Phil caught a whiff of their nervous energy, which only served to further burn the dread into Phil’s sweating skin.  
“What’s going on?” Phil shouted, a desperate squawk against a wall of turning eyes, running toward Will. Will had blown, panicked eyes and shaking hands. He did not seem able to focus on Phil.  
“It’s Dan,” he gasped. “He’s been taken.”

*****************

“What are we going to do?” someone yelled.  
“What’s going to happen to Dan?” another cried.  
“Where was he taken? Was it Mn-Chstr?” a voice in the crowd called out.  
The voices crowed incessantly around Phil, tearing deep recesses into the numb void that had become his brain. He found that he could not stand – squatting instead on the brown dirt and scratching his bloody nails ever deeper into the rocks. He had to grip harder and harder, as his grip on reality slid further away.  
V and the other ringleaders were addressing the crowd, shouting complacencies and strategies to the fearful crowd. Phil could not hear, could not listen, could not see and could not speak.  
Hands, mysterious hands, pulled him up and away into the main tent. He was flopped onto a chair, with his limbs dangling lifelessly onto the floor.  
A sharp, stinging slap on his right cheek made his eyes focus onto the sternly worried face of V.  
“Lester, there is no time for this!” she bit out.  
“Dan,” Phil mumbled. “How-”  
“He was taken last night, from his home. When he did not come to a meeting here about the underground radio station, we sent an undercover agent to his home. His wife reported him absent. So, we take action.”  
Will stumbled into the tent, busy loading a blistered gun with ammo. “No time,” he ordered shakily. “Assemble team.”  
V pushed away from Phil and began checking her weapons. “Is the portal ready?”  
Charlie spoke from the corner of the tent, frightening Phil. “Not completely, but enough. I can set it to the privatised Mn-Chstr location-”  
“How do you have those co-ordinates?” V shot out.  
“My husband works for Mn-Chstr,” Charlie said ashamedly. “I swiped these from our home portal.”  
“How will we get in without alarming the officials?” a girl with cropped blonde hair asked, packing a duffel bag with shoddy weaponry. The group looked at Charlie. He thought for a bit.  
“I have a spouse visiting passcard on my tablet at home,” he said, his voice slow and full of growing excitement. “I can duplicate those easily and distribute them amongst us.”  
“What about those who don’t have tablets?” Will said with a frown.  
“They should stay-”  
“No way in hell,” Will growled, and Phil found himself filled with admiration for the man.  
“We’d have to downsize the team,” Amir said quietly. “It’s dangerous, but-”  
“I have two blank passcards that I can program,” Charlie said quickly. “Which means-”  
“Will and I will go,” V said smoothly.  
“You’ll need me,” Charlie said. “There may be many security issues to overwrite, and I’ve been in the building before. I know the basic layout.”  
“You may come, on the condition that you do not slow the team down,” V said. “So, we have-”  
“I want to come,” Phil said softly. The entire tent froze.  
“You are not trained, you can’t-” V said, turning on Phil with a frown. Phil pushed himself off the chair and loomed over V, feeling the prickles of everyone’s stares on his back.  
“I don’t care,” he said lowly. “I. Am. Coming.”  
For the first time, Phil saw a flicker of something unrecognizable in V’s eyes. Fear, maybe. Respect. But still she resisted. “You will only slow us down, it will not benefit the cause-”  
“V, I’ll cover him,” Will cut in, stepping forward and placing a hand on Phil’s shoulder. He had seen that same something in Phil’s eyes, something that whispered to him of promise. “Let’s go, we’re wasting time,” he said, looking meaningfully at V.  
The eternally exasperated V inhaled and then exhaled deeply, her nostrils flaring as a deep crease settled between her eyebrows. “Get dressed,” she said with closed eyes. “Take our best armour. Weapons too. I will not lose a single man today.”

********************

The padded vest Phil wore underneath his shirt was stiff and uncomfortable. A handgun, pressed cold and hard into the small of his back, had been given to him only to be used, in V’s words, “In the deepest of emergencies.”  
Will and Phil had been waiting in the crumbling building by the portal for V and Charlie to go ahead. It would be less suspicious, Charlie had said, if they went in seperately and with time inbetween. Charlie would send them a message when ready.  
They waited in agonising silence for the signal to come. It had been half an hour. Phil scuffled his shoes in the dirt, finding Will to be the only thing he could fixate on. Will was digging his nails into his skin, chewing on the little white flaps on his bottom lip, and murmuring to himself under his breath. Every minute he checked his gun, a shabby-looking automatic that had clearly been repaired more than it had been used.  
“Will,” Phil began with a croaky voice. Will looked up at him, stilling his frantic muttering and staring at him blankly. “You seem – I mean, you’re-”  
There was no way to phrase this question.  
“Are you very, um, close with Dan?” he asked eventually. Phil knew that the two were friends, and that Will had been the one to recruit him, but he hadn’t expected such a reaction from the man.  
“Yeah, of course I am,” Will said miserably, dropping his gaze to the floor.  
“What do you mean ‘of course’?” Phil asked, a tinge of jealousy clouding his words. To console himself, he dug his hands deep into his pockets.  
“Well – he’s – um, well,” Will jerked out. He continued digging ever deeper into his skin with his nails. Small droplets of blood welled under his nails, and Phil reached forward to grab Will’s hands.  
Phil wanted to ask, “Are you in love with him?” But he couldn’t bring the words to his lips. Instead, he said, “Will, talk to me. Please. I don’t know if-” Phil choked on his tongue. “If we’ll be able to-” Vomit rose in his throat.  
Will started shaking. “No one knows,” he whispered. “No one knows, no one but me. If something were to happen-”  
“What are you talking about?” Phil demanded.  
Will’s brown eyes scrunched up, beads of salty water collecting on his dark eyelashes. “What do you know about me?” he asked in a small voice.  
“Not much, I guess,” Phil said, thinking hard. “You recruited Dan, you’re a nice guy, um...” his words trailed off.  
“Yeah,” Will said weakly. “Well, there’s a little bit more to me than that.”  
Phil waited patiently to hear more.  
Will took a deep breath. “Obviously, you know some of V’s story. Travelling the Manchester lands, across the water and into the unknown. She was young, much younger than she is now, but she wasn’t even among the first of the Resistance. As long as there’s been Mn-Chstr, there’s been a resistance, no matter how small.  
“Well, the Inbetween was discovered about thirty years ago. My grandmother, Agatha, was one of the Resistance, but she refused to move underground. She stayed above, playing pretend in her every day life. Until...”  
Phil leant forward anxiously.  
“My parents. They were still young, maybe sixteen. And they, well, they disobeyed some laws, and-”  
“And your mother got pregnant,” Phil breathed.  
“Yeah,” Will said wearily. “Unacceptable, of course. To herself. Gran told me the story; she tried to hide her pregnancy from her own mother. Gran knew, but she never revealed that. And, and,” Will took a deep breath, one that rattled his ribcage. “She had the baby. Me. And, um.”  
Phil lifted a comforting hand and brushed it over Will’s quaking shoulders.  
“She had me in a park. And left me there,” he whispered, his lips dry but his eyes not.  
“And then what?” Phil asked, afraid his voice was too loud and jarring in the shadows of Will’s sadness.  
“Gran had waited nine months for the hope that my mother would confess. She told me that it was all in vain, that she had never met a creature as vile as her. And when I was born, Gran packed a bag, waited for my mother to flee the park in shame, and saved me. She took me down, to the Inbetween, a tiny bloody baby that screamed louder than a freight train, she said,” Will said, the memory of a smile crossing his face. “She raised me down here. She was a great woman.”  
“Did-” Phil said slowly, tentatively, “Did Agatha pass away?”  
“Four years ago,” Will said, teeth clamping down on his bottom lip.  
“I’m so sorry,” Phil said, pulling Will into a hug. “For all that crap that happened to you.” He pulled back and looked into Will’s eyes. “But tell me, what does this have to do with Dan?”  
Will inhaled, steeling himself for something Phil burned to know. “Dan’s my brother.”  
Phil’s mouth dropped open, just as his wrist began to vibrate. He glanced down numbly, to read the message, “Now” displayed on his tablet’s screen. “We have to go,” he said. “Let’s go save your b-brother.”  
“And your boyfriend,” Will said with a hint of his old laugh. He activated the modified portal, and the two were swept away faster than the eye could see. The Mn-Chstr government building rose up in their vision. Phil clenched his fist; Dan was in there somewhere.  
“Are you ready?” Will asked as he held the duplicated passcode ahead of him, shaky due to being aboveground again.  
“No,” Phil said, activating his tablet and bringing the passcode onto the screen. “I’m not.”  
He looked up, his eyes following the steel giant up so far the rooftop vanished into the distant barriers of the force field. “Let’s go,” Phil growled.


	9. Steps

Phil’s nerves swelled to a fist-sized rock in his throat. He eyed the Mn-Chstr building; its sleek design belied the horrors he knew to be inside. He struggled to make his feet move forward, they seemed to resist the platform leading toward the door itself.   
“Hold on,” he said to Will as his tablet began to buzz. “There’s a message from Charlie – oh!”  
Will peered at the screen. “What’s that?” he asked, frowning at the unfamiliar technology.  
“It’s, uh, a link to a download. I think it’s a map, or the building’s diagnostics.” Phil downloaded the file and opened it. “Yup. Look.” He showed Will the screen. “There’s 65 floors, wow. We only have information, it looks like, of three of them. Oh, okay. Charlie and them have searched from here,” he swiped a finger across the screen which zoomed into the map, “and they’re heading down here.” Phil traced the highlighted path with a finger, checking to see if Will was following. “It looks like they suspect Dan is here.” As he pointed out the location to Will, he noticed the man’s smile.  
“Why are you smiling?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.  
“Oh, you’ve just proved yourself very useful, is all,” Will grinned. “Let’s just hope you don’t get yourself killed inside, yeah?”  
“Don’t joke about that,” Phil grumbled, but legitimate fear overrode his senses.  
“Come on, there’s no time to waste, partner,” Will said, withdrawing the passcard Charlie had programmed for him. “Let’s just hope this thing works.” He led the way to the door, and Phil could only stumble behind him. Will shakily held the passcard to the scanning panel. Phil expected sirens, swooping officials and gunshots. Instead, the panel blinked from red to green, and the door opened for Will.  
“Wow, that was surprisingly easy,” Will said, a shocked but pleased smile forming on his face. “Meet you inside, yeah?”  
Phil nodded. Will entered the building, and Phil was about to activate his passcard when his tablet buzzed again. He looked down in surprise. It was Charlie again.  
“There are multiple DNA-designated portals inside. I installed an overriding feature on the Inbetween’s portal device. Good luck.”  
“Thank God for Charlie O’Dowd,” Phil muttered, before scanning his tablet’s passcard and walking inside. As he stepped over the threshold of the Mn-Chstr building, his tablet buzzed again, and again, and again. Thick confusion trussed his brow; who was contacting him? Charlie?  
“Phil, where are you?”  
“Phil, please tell me what’s going on.”  
“Phil, I’m getting worried.”  
“Phil, please come home.”  
“PHIL!”  
He rubbed a hand over his eyes. He had forgotten Angela, again. He didn’t have time for this – he’d have to answer her later. If there was a later.  
“Sorry, Ang,” he whispered as he turned the tablet off. He looked up. Will was standing in the middle of a vast, open room. It was completely white. And completely empty. Will was scanning the room with bewildered eyes.  
“Where is everything?” Phil asked in a small voice, taking steps toward Will.  
“I don’t know,” Will whispered back. “It’s a bit creepy, isn’t it?”  
Phil nodded his agreement. His roving eyes landed on something. “There, look!” he said, pointing to the far end of the room. It was a single, smooth door set seamlessly into the wall.   
“I guess that’s where we have to go,” Will said. “Keep your hand near your weapon at all times, you hear me?”  
“I thought V said it was only for emergencies,” Phil said as he hesitantly put his hand on the gun in the small of his back.  
“This is an emergency,” Will said fiercely as he walked toward the door. “Stay behind me, and keep quiet.” The door was opened. A long, colourless corridor stretched out, further than the eye could see. “I guess we follow it,” Will whispered.  
They began to walk. The corridor stretched on and on, never winding, never sloping. “This is so weird,” Phil hissed.   
“I know,” Will murmured back. “Where is everyone?”  
“Hold on,” Phil urged, stopping suddenly and studying the wall. He ran his fingers over the cold surface, feeling for any irregularities. With a gasp he latched onto a groove far above his head, and with a pop of his fingers the wall opened. He slid the panel into the ground, heart filling with dreading excitement as he observed what lay behind.  
“It’s a portal,” Will grinned.  
“Yup,” Phil said victoriously, smiling when Will gave him a hearty clap on the shoulder.   
“Where do you think it leads?” the other man asked, leaning forward to inspect the portal. It was a sleeker design than Phil had ever seen. There was no panel asking for input, no destination fields.   
“I have absolutely no idea,” Phil admitted. “Only one way to find out.” He withdrew the portal device from his backpack, studying it briefly.  
“What are you doing?” Will asked, peering over Phil’s shoulder.  
“Charlie installed an overriding feature on here,” Phil explained. “I have no idea how it works, or how to use it, but it means we’ll be able to use the portals.”  
Will seemed pleased. “Everything’s working out thus far,” he smiled. “Can you get it to work?”  
“I’m trying,” Phil told him, as he began pushing the device’s buttons. “I think it’s-”  
The portal in front of them activated, turning a shimmering azure. The two men breathed sighs of both relief and amazement. “I’ll go first,” Will said, shifting Phil out of the way. He stepped onto the light and vanished. Phil swallowed a lump in his throat and made to follow, but the light had already vanished.   
“Shit, how do I-” Phil mumbled, struggling with the device. He began pressing the buttons in what he hoped was the same sequence. The portal activated and he sighed with relief. “I’m coming, Dan,” he said softly. He stepped into the blue light.  
The room skittered with glowing lights, swirling into existence before Phil’s eyes. He squinted through the blue light encompassing him, searching for some evidence as to any dangers up ahead. The room was indecipherable.  
With trepidation he stepped off the plate. “Will?” he called, swivelling his head in search of the dark-headed man. Silence.  
“Will, where are you?” he asked, a whispery fear creeping into his words. He turned and studied the portal through a frantic haze. Had the portal switched destinations? It had to be – which only meant one thing.  
Phil was on his own.  
He gulped. The realization of where exactly he was – who exactly he was – what he was trying to do – settled heavier than a freight train on his shoulders, constricting his throat.   
He held up the portal device and studied it desperately. He had to go back – it was a mistake, he couldn’t be alone –  
The device was dead.  
“No, no, no,” he moaned, repeating the word until it lost all meaning, until it faded from his lips into incoherent mumbling. He shook the device, pressing all the buttons until that proved redundant. “This doesn’t make any sense!” He stared at it, unwilling to accept the reality that pitch black screen presented. He slid the useless device back into his backpack, and expelled a long, low sigh.   
He turned around.  
The room was dark; too dark to see much of anything. The lights he had seen before no longer existed, or so it seemed to Phil. He tried to think through the wave of confusion and fear that was pounding in his head. The room seemed empty in the darkness, but that eternal expanse could belie a cornucopia of dangers. He treads forward, as cautious as he knows how.   
Thoughts of finding Dan, thoughts of rescue, become infiltrated by those of survival. Of escape.  
As he walks into the room, his footsteps rippling echoes off the far walls, he catches glimmers of… something. Somethings.  
They are not alive, he thinks. There are still no people here, and Phil doesn’t know what he expected. He almost wishes to see someone, anyone.  
A Mn-Chstr representative would be less frightening than being alone.  
He reached the far wall. The outlines of a door are cut into the white surface – finally – and Phil fumbles for the doorknob, loosely gripping it in the darkness. He turns the knob. The creak sounds throughout the room. He opens the door slowly. A bright light erupts from the gap, throwing its white luminescence into the room behind him. He glanced back; the hall filled with Somethings is now vaguely lit. Rows and rows of abandoned desks now throw stretched shadows to the other side of the room. Phil shuddered.  
Shaking himself into some semblance of sanity, he opens the door, and cannot help his strangled gasp.  
The room was lowly lit, in the kind of bioluminescent green that reeked of science. There were rows of pods going back into the massive room, containing green liquids. And floating inside this liquid, were humans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry this is short, but I’m very busy with real life. I’m really struggling with writing this part of the story, so any kind words would be appreciated. I love you all!


	10. Prison

Phil stumbled forward until one of his hands pushed against the frigid glass of one of the tanks. He leant against the tank, stuttering breath puffing up clouds of mist on the glass. He couldn’t blink; the reality of what he was seeing was too horrible.  
A naked, young woman was suspended in the clear green liquid. She seemed asleep, or dead. Phil pushed his face against the glass so hard he lost feeling in his nose – he could see her chest rising and falling ever so slowly. She was alive.  
Phil tore himself away from the tank and desperately scanned the room; the rows and rows of tanks went far back into the room. Far, far back. He rushed to the next tank and peered at the person inside. A young black man was there. Asleep. Comatose?  
With shaking hands Phil began to beat on the glass, his mouth too numb to scream. He tried so hard to yell, to awake this man trapped inside. No response.  
Phil studied the tank, his eyes roving madly, looking for some kind of button he could press to release the man. Nothing.  
He staggered away, past tank after tank of living, breathing human. They all seemed the same age – youthful, perfect.   
His brain hurt.  
He kept on searching, searching for someone or something to prove this wasn’t real, that this was a nightmare, that he was going to wake up with Dan by his side, that this horror wasn’t REAL.  
It was, it was, it was.  
He looked into every tank, memorising each face, looking for some sign of life other than the soft rise and fall of breath. He looked and looked and looked.  
Until he faltered. He tripped over his own ankles and crashed to the pristine white floor, his hands smarting. Shakily he stood up, and dug his fingers into his eyes. Maybe if he kept rubbing, if he pressed until the red dots popped brighter than fireworks, then it wouldn’t be real.  
A pale body floated in the tank before him. He had light brown hair wafting around his still face. His body was thin, and long, and very pale.  
It was Phil.  
The other Phil, the trembling one, dragged his aching feet closer and closer until he was face to face with himself. He studied the features of the man opposite him; for it was most certainly him, it was the image he had seen in a mirror for 25 years, albeit younger, and smoother, and almost perfect.  
Phil stared until his eyes slid out of focus. His mind tried to think, tried to run through all the possibilities of this being real, trying to justify this insanely impossible thing that was here, that was real, that was mad, that was spiralling into his sockets because Phil just couldn’t handle it anymore.  
Something sharp prodded into his lower back.  
“Who are you?” a voice demanded. Phil froze, his shoulders stiffening as he pulled his face off the glass with a ripping sound.  
“I’m no one,” he stuttered, unable to turn around in his fear.  
“’No one’ wouldn’t be able to get into this lab. This is a private facility, you need authorization to get in here, and I don’t see any authorization.”  
Where was Phil’s gun?   
It was still digging into his lower back. If he could just…  
“My name’s Phil,” he gasped. “I’m – I’m inspecting your lab. Mn-Chstr procedure.”  
The item pressing sharply into his back was swiftly removed. “Thank God,” the voice said in relief. Phil slowly turned around. An older Asian man in a lab coat holding a pen was looking at him. “Dr. Tao Sin, sir,” he said, smiling until the corners of his eyes crinkled. “Though I suppose you knew that. We don’t get many reps down here-” He paused. His eyes flickered between Phil and the tank.  
With a chuckle, he said, “Ah, I see you’ve found your clone! It’s always weird the first time, I know.”  
Phil nodded slowly, trying desperately to keep a lid on the rising confusion he felt. “Can you, um, tell me about – will you – explain the clones, please.”  
Dr. Sin frowned. “Haven’t you read the files, sir?”  
Blinking rapidly, Phil amended, “Yes, of course. This is, uh, part of the assessment.”  
Dr. Sin hurriedly straightened his shoulders. “Yes, yes. Obviously.” He giggled nervously. “It’s not often I see other people down here. Or at all.” He turned to survey the room of tanks. “This program is an initiative run by Mn-Chstr, has been running for three hundred years. Code name Gemini. Essentially, DNA is extracted from each and every newborn and brought here, where I implant it into a cluster of blank embryos. We manufacture those. When one of the embryos begins developing, we remove the rest, to be recycled.”  
Recycled?  
“The rapidly accelerated growth,” Sin continued, “is facilitated by this liquid.” He tapped the tanks, indicating the green fluid within. “It’s a formula that includes stem cells, essential nutrients and lavender, for the smell,” he winked. “The fetus will develop into an adult in only one year. In this singular year we run tests on the DNA, analysing it and classing the person. They-”  
“Sorry, classing?” Phil interrupted. He had been trying his hardest to look professional, nodding as if he wasn’t fazed by the information.  
“Yes, of course,” Sin nodded. “We class them according to their traits. The desired traits need to be in higher percentage to the undesired, of course.”  
“Give me some examples of these traits, then,” Phil said, shifting his arms into a folded stance. He had no idea if he was acting like a Mn-Chstr representative, but it seemed to be working.  
“Yes. Well, the most desired traits are intelligence, height and disease immunity. Undesired traits range from propensity toward genetic diseases to red hair.”  
“So, wait,” Phil said, scrunching up his brow. “What do you do with this information?”  
Sin cocked his head, scrutinising Phil. “Well, obviously, the person’s perfect genetic counterpart is selected-”  
“Yes, I know that,” Phil said loudly. “But why?”  
“Well, Gemini, sir!” Sin proclaimed. “Do I have to explain the operative to you? Really?”  
“It’s for the assessment,” Phil said through gritted teeth. “Your resistance is marking against you so far, Sin. Do you understand me?”  
The Doctor’s lips whitened. “My most humblest apologies, sir,” he whispered. “It’s just – I didn’t think I’d have to explain Gemini, I mean-”  
“Just. Explain.” Phil said.  
“Everything?” Sin asked.  
“Everything.”  
“Well, as you know, after World War IV, the Union formed. But Britain, as our lands were called back then, refused to cooperate. Well, several sections of it. There was a smaller war, mostly internal, very fatal. And then, the Union completely banned us. We were accused of desire for domination. They were going to surround us and suppress us, but then we fought back.” Sin smiled. “The field barrier technology we employ today had been invented in a more rudimentary form, and our major cities were protected. We became New England, and split into the five sections. Yrk, Lndn, Brstl, Ipswch and Mn-Chstr. Mn-Chstr was the largest, and eventually overtook the two smallest sections, but Lndn and Brstl remain. As the time went by, and the cities were developed, the idea of revenge against the Union started to form. New England was tired of being oppressed.”  
Sin was grinning now, enraptured by his own story.   
“We knew that we would be unable to face the rest of Earth as it were, we were too small. Too weak. So Gemini was started. At first, the idea was only to double our forces; two of each person. And then we realised that most people weren’t suitable for battle. Massive epidemics had ravaged the lands after the wars, and people were sick. There were so few left. So the idea of DNA matching began. The governments offered free housing and work to people, in return for their compliance with the new program. We began matching people.”  
He began to walk among the tanks, and Phil dazedly followed him.  
“If you had desired traits, you’d be placed with someone who matched you in such a way that the traits would be passed on to the offspring. The severely undesired traits were matched with a person who would make it near impossible for those traits to be passed on. And so on, so forth. It’s taken many, many generations, but we’re finally nearing the point of a perfect race.”  
Phil hid his shaking hands behind his back. He was about to ask something, anything, to distract from his buzzing brain, but then Sin reached a holopanel and touched a series of buttons. “I can give you a tour of the rest of the labs, if you want,” he offered.  
Phil nodded. “Yes, that would be acceptable.” He found himself wondering how many labs there were. He thought of Charlie, somewhere in the building with V, completely unaware that this existed. “Wait, what about same-sex couples? They don’t reproduce, they’re given-”  
“Adoptive children, yes. You see,” Sin said, looking up from the holopanel, “those with a larger ratio of undesired traits are placed with another undesired of the same gender. We breed a child with improved DNA and provide the couple with this child to love and raise.”  
Phil thought of Charlie’s daughter, Allison. He’d never met her, but he knew her fathers loved her deeply. Charlie spoke of her so often whenever they were together it made Phil think having his own child wouldn’t be too awful.   
“What happens with the clones when the real version dies?” he asked, forcibly changing his thoughts as the image of his pregnant wife arose.  
“They’re preserved, of course,” Sin scoffed, still tapping a sequence into the panel. “The stem cell formula keeps the clone at its peak age, for maximum strength, intelligence and beauty.”   
The walls and floor seemed to evaporate from around Phil. He gasped and stumbled backward. Sin chuckled. “Yes, it’s quite something to get used to.”  
The walls and floor were still there, but they were completely clear. So clear, that Phil could see down and around for miles in each direction – and he saw miles upon miles of tanks.  
“How many clones are there?” he asked slowly.  
“150 million,” Sin said over his shoulder, as he checked a series of charts. “Of course, we’ve recycled so many failed humans, the original number was probably astounding. Three hundred years is a long time.”  
Phil fell to his knees, staring down into the abyss of tanks. “How do you manage it?” he gasped.  
“Oh, I don’t take care of all these tanks!” Sin snorted. “There’s maintenance teams for every floor. They’re just-”  
“No,” Phil said, tearing his eyes away from the floor to stare at Dr. Sin. “How do you do this?”   
“I don’t understand, sir,” Sin said, cocking his head. “I must say, this is very irregular. What did you say your name was?”  
Phil clambered to his feet. “It’s Phil.” He pulled the gun from underneath his jacket and pointed it at Sin. His eyes widened, and his hands froze in mid-air.   
“What are you doing?” Sin cried.  
“I’m sorry, Sin. But I can’t let you continue doing this,” Phil said shakily. “Can’t you see that it’s just… evil?”  
“You’re not a Mn-Chstr representative,” Sin said redundantly, with fear in his eyes.  
“Obviously,” Phil said. They stared at each other for several seconds, trading no words. Sin’s eyes flickered to the holopanel for the briefest second. He began inching his hand closer to it. “Hey, no!” Phil burst out, moving closer and pointing the gun more fiercely at Sin. “Keep your hands away from the panel!”  
Sin froze again. He looked Phil in the eyes, regarding him. “That’s quite the old model you have there,” he said, speaking slowly and softly. “In fact, I don’t think I’ve seen a gunpowder model in real life.”  
“Really?” Phil said, looking down at his gun.   
Sin’s hand smacked down on the panel, letting off the alarm. “Shit,” Phil swore, looking up at the ceilings in panic. “I will shoot you,” he warned Sin. “Turn off the alarm!”  
“It’s too late,” Sin said. “And you’re not going to shoot me.”  
Phil’s lips curled back in anger. He pointed the gun straight at Sin’s face. His finger trembled on the trigger. He swallowed thickly and tried to squeeze it, but the task seemed impossible. He saw a hint of victory in Sin’s eyes.  
He thought of Dan.  
Phil lowered the gun. Sin’s eyes brightened with a smirk, and he began to take a step back. With a jerky movement Phil pulled the trigger, his hand ripping backward and his ears going numb as the loudest sound he had ever heard exploded around the room.  
Sin slumped to the floor, a dark patch blooming on his thigh. “What the hell,” he gasped.  
“I’m not going to kill you,” Phil said lowly. “Tell me where the holding units are.”  
Sin was gasping in short bursts and trying to press his fingers over the wound to stem the bleeding. “I – I don’t know!” he cried.  
“Don’t lie!” Phil shouted, pressing the gun to Sin’s neck. The quivering man began to gulp down tears.   
“Basement level 17,” Sin whispered.  
“Do you an access card?” Phil asked, removing the gun.  
“It’s DNA-based, with restricted access-”  
“Can you reprogram an access card for me?”  
Sin’s eyelids lowered. “Why should I help you?” he muttered. He shifted his leg and grimaced as the pain stabbed him. The bottom of his pristine lab coat was soaking into a deep, murderous red.  
“Because I didn’t kill you. Now do it, quickly!” Phil demanded.  
Sin stared at him with an unreadable expression. Silently he lifted his arm, holding it up to his face. Phil watched as he activated his blood-streaked tablet and started tapping a sequence onto the screen. “Faster,” Phil urged him. He scanned the room for signs of authority; the alarm was still sounding.  
Sin’s tablet spat out a tiny chip, which he pushed with trembling fingers at Phil. “Thanks,” Phil said, sliding the chip into his pocket. “How much time do I have until they come?” He was getting up.  
“Oh,” Sin said, lifting his head. “I’d estimate about three seconds.”  
Phil whipped around, raising his gun. A group of about seven Mn-Chstr guards, clothed in all white, had appeared from the portals across the room. They held sleek guns and were scanning the tanks.   
“Over here!” Sin cried.  
Their heads snapped toward the two, and they began shooting. “Oh, fuck,” Phil howled as white hot beams of light flashed just by his ear. He smelt his hair burning. Phil dove behind a tank and ducked low, trying to see where the men were. They were advancing on him, running across the room, splitting up and converging around the tanks. Phil scuttled forward, holding his gun up and peering through the green liquid, looking for the guards.  
He spotted one, a muscular woman, peering around the edge of a tank. She was searching the room with hardened, experienced eyes. Phil shakily lifted his gun and pointed it at her, realising too late that he’d never learned how to aim.  
Hoping for the best, he squeezed the trigger, losing all feeling in his arm once again. His ears rang and his eyes swum but through it all he saw that he’d missed – the bullet had hit the tank behind her and shattered. A wave of green liquid sloshed onto the floor and a caramel-coloured woman slumped over the bottom of the tank, face down. Phil recoiled in horror.  
The gunshot had alerted the guards to his presence. Another spinning blast of hot light blasted into the floor by his foot. He wrenched himself off the floor and ran forward again, weaving in and out of the masses of tanks that presented themselves like a maze. The far side of the room, where the portals were, seemed a million miles away. He tried not to look back over his shoulder as he ran.  
The familiar feeling of dry burn in his lungs made him wish he could have trained more with V. He wished that V were here, protecting him.   
He slid behind a tank when two blasts nearly singed his head again. He pointed the now-hot gun at his pursuers and shakily tried to aim. The sights on the top of the gun swam in and out of place, and he couldn’t concentrate on the little black bits; the blurry target behind the aim was moving closer and closer. Without thought he pulled the trigger.   
Two of the three guards kept running toward him. Triumph flashed through Phil as one of the men stumbled, a hand shooting up to grab at his now-bleeding shoulder.  
Phil rose again and started running, running faster than he ever had in his life. The portals were inching ever closer. He was burning all over, and gasping, but the thought of the guards behind him, and of Dan in Basement level 17, kept him going.   
A blast hit his leg.  
He stumbled forward, almost falling, before he jerkily found his footing and kept moving. The pain was astounding. His leg was on fire. The portal was two metres away, a metre… more blasts hit him; his arm and his back and his shoulder. He dove for the portal, barely even feeling the hellish fire spreading all over his body. The chip in his pocket activated and the portal’s lights rose up around him.  
The lab faded, to be replaced with another plain white room, although this time much smaller, and with four steel doors set into the walls.  
Phil fell from the portal, relief and pain wracking his body. He knew he didn’t have much time – Sin would probably tell the guards to come here. He winced as he stood up; the rush of adrenaline was holding back a lot of the pain but it still stung. He limped towards the doors, deliberating which to open.  
If Will, V and Charlie were here, they could split up and search the whole area. But they weren’t.   
He could alert them. He could tell them where Dan was so that even if Phil was captured Dan could still be saved. He switched his tablet on, immediately calling Charlie.  
“Hey, where are you?” Phil gasped as the call connected.  
“Floor 12, where are you?” Charlie’s voice responded. He sounded out of breath.  
“Basement Level 17, it’s where the holding units are,” Phil said in a hushed voice, cautiously turning the knob of the first door. He peered inside, down the long corridor. “Is V with you?”  
“Yeah. We ran into some guards, but V took them out. Is Will there?”  
“No, we got separated.” Phil was limping at a fast pace down the corridor, peeking left and right into the cells. Each cell was a simple, white room with a sleeping pod. They all seemed empty. Phil began to panic.  
“Shit. Okay, we’re coming down. Stay safe!”  
The call ended. Phil reached the end of the corridor with no success. There was no one here. He turned back and began limping down the corridor again. An unwelcome thought began to niggle at his brain – what if Sin had lied about the holding units? But these were cells, so where were the prisoners?  
Phil reached the door and made to open it again, freezing when he heard sounds of movement outside. He peeked through the slit between door and wall and strained to see.  
The guards were there, scanning the room. Phil swore – any moment now they’d split up and begin searching for him. He stumbled to the door of the nearest cell and tried to open it. It was jammed for a second and then popped open easily under Phil’s fist. He barrelled inside and closed the door behind him.   
He ducked low, avoiding the viewing window of the cell’s door. There was nowhere to hide – so he slid down and curled up against the door, focusing on breathing in and out.  
Footsteps began to fall on the opposite side of the door. Phil closed his eyes and tried not to hyperventilate. He counted each rise and fall of his chest, listening intently as the footsteps would sound, and then pause, and then sound, and then pause. They were checking the cells. They’d gone past him already! Was he safe?  
The footsteps were now returning, growing louder and louder until they vibrated the very floor Phil sat on.   
Phil closed his eyes, seeing spots of white clouding the inky blackness his closed lids gave. His head swum. His hands started to shake. And the burn, oh that ravaging hell of burning, was spreading over his entire body.  
The footsteps disappeared. A distant voice called, “Not in here!”  
And Phil could breathe again. He waited a bit longer, but knew if he stayed still he’d pass out. So he struggled to his feet and clambered out of the room. The corridor was empty, but the door was open. Phil froze – he could still hear their voices in the room next door. He backtracked and tried his hardest to listen.  
“Should we take the prisoner to Recycling?” one voice said.   
“Not yet. They’ve still got… questions.” The other voice was smoother, silkier. Revolting.  
“Where should we check next?” another voice asked.  
“There’s activity on Floor 12. Let’s go.”  
The sound of portals activating was like music to Phil’s ears. He counted slowly to five, trying desperarely not to succumb to the call of his pain. Dan was in here, Dan was in here.  
He stumbled out the corridor and went to open the next door. He found it harder and harder to breathe. His fingers trembled on the handle of the door. He flexed his wrist and managed to swing it open. Another corridor stretched down. He tried to take a step. His legs buckled beneath him and he slammed to the ground. The full force of the burns on his body struck him then.  
He tried to stop the pain, groaning as his hands found the wound on his leg. His skin was black and crusting through the singed hole of his trousers. He moaned in terror, knowing his back would be mottled with the same marks.   
His eyesight was failing him; reality seemed to phase in and out of his vision as he tried so desperately to stay awake.  
And then; black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! If you're enjoying, please please leave a comment - it will make my day. Thank you for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Check me out on tumblr at prettyelizmari ^-^


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